Things Thought Lost
by JustThatOneGirl1815
Summary: Morgana Pendragon has brought Sir Lancelot back to life, again. But this time for revenge. She leaves him lying in a ravine, alone, and injured, until someone finds him. Is the woman on the side of Morgana or does she truly want to help Lancelot on his never-before-told quest? Rated T and all rights go to BBC Merlin. Set after the events of "The Sword In The Stone Part 2".
1. Prologue

**Things Thought Lost**

 **Prologue**

 **Hey so this is one of my first fanfictions (on this account anyways, if you like PJO search DEMIgodofTigers, my old account and it has two finished stories) and it's based on the idea that maybe Lancelot came back to life again. Maybe someone found him laying in the bottom of a ravine or something and decided to help the guy –who was on the brink of death– out. You could be wondering how the hell he's come back _again_ , well let's just say that Morgana Pendragon may have been involved. This is (obviously) a Merlin fic. Also, since this particular chapter is the prologue, I'll be being very vague. In addition, this chapter is a bit harsh (What can I say, Morgana's harsh, I have to match the writing to the characters.) the rest of the chapters shouldn't be as gruesome. Anyways I'm going to stop blabbering now and just let you read the story.**

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A lady in a black dress and whose raven hair shown in the faint light of the crescent moon above waded into the cool water of a lake. The woman whispered a completely inaudible phrase, and the water on the lake started to ripple.

A second woman arose from the lake. Her skin was pale and her hair was dark and soaked in the water of the lake. She also wore a dress, made of red fabric.

The second woman seemed wary around the first, and for good reason. The first woman whispered inaudible words. The second woman nodded to the first and began to speak a powerful song.

 _"In Emrys' hour of need, he shall ride upon his mighty steed, a hero of Camelot, will rise from the waters of Avalon, to come back from death, for he has not yet spent his last breath!"_

The song of the woman caused the Earth to shake, the water to heave, and the trees to sway. Wind wrapped around the two figures as a third figure began to rise up from the deep waters of the lake. A male figure floated to the two women and levitated a few inches above the now calm surface of the water. No cuts or bruises shown on his body, his skin was healthy, as if he hadn't been dead. The only thing that portrayed that he might not be completely alive was that he was completely limp.

The woman with the raven black hair smiled a sly smile, and then her eyes glowed gold. The second lady flew backwards, hitting the surface of the water hard. The woman with the raven black hair then proceeded to grab the man by his hair and drag him away from the lake.

She walked proudly though the forest, her catch dragging behind her. Guinevere had become Queen of Camelot. The efforts, the steps, she had taken to make sure that didn't happen were all useless. Her useless, poor servant girl was now the Queen of Camelot. And Camelot was not under her rule anymore either. The woman of raven black hair blamed it all on the man that she currently dragged behind her. Had he killed Arthur or Guinevere when he'd had the chance none of this would be happening. She wouldn't have lost the Kingdom of Camelot, and she wouldn't be living where she is now. He only thing good that came out of her– no, _his_ failure– was her new friend: the white dragon.

She screamed in anger, letting her eyes flash gold, and sent the man who had ruined everything crashing through trees.

She let her magic take hold of him, allowing the nature around her to rip the skin of his flesh to shreds. Suddenly, she stopped.

 _What's the point of causing him this much pain, if he cannot feel it at all?_ The woman thought.

She whispered an incantation, bringing the man fully back to life. He gasped in shock; the man's brown eyes flew open, and his body became no longer limp.

Had any of the previous pain from her bout of anger remained, he did not show it.

 _ **"Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare mid þam sundorcræftas þære ealdaþ æ!"**_ The woman enchanted.

All of the wounds and scratches on the man's body healed, though his blood still covered the ground.

The woman smiled at his questioning gaze. He knew who she was.

The man opened his mouth to say her name, but before he could say anything, her eyes glowed golden and once more she sent him thrashing though a thicket of thick brambles.

This was his punishment; torture at her hand.

 _ **"Fleoge!"**_

 _ **"Flíe fǽgð!"**_

 _ **"Fluge! Gár!"**_ She yelled.

These incantations caused swords and spears that had been strewn across the ground from a battle long ago to start to levitate and attack her victim. The weapons slashed at him and pierced his skin. She made sure they didn't go to deep, though. She wanted him to feel pain for as long as possible. If he bleed out to soon, her fun would be over, for she could not bring him back to life for a third time. She relished in his screams of agony as her weapons attacked him.

This went on for hours, and now the woman with the raven black hair knew that her victim could take no more. She knew that if she added just the slightest more of a wound to him, or healed him once more so she could start it all over again, he would die. That is not what she wanted, she wanted him to feel her pain, her sorrow, for as long as possible.

She took his limp, almost lifeless body and cast a levitation spell.

The woman walked, with him floating behind her, for a while, until she reached a deep ravine.

The slit between the two rock faces went down about thirty feet and was roughly eight feet wide. No one would find him there, and if he did miraculously heal from his wounds, he wouldn't be able to escape either. He would die, surrounded by the slate rocks, he would die alone, and best of all, he would be forgotten.

She'd had her fun with the former Knight of Camelot, and now the woman with raven black hair manipulated her magic to move his limp body over the widest section of the crack, and dropped him.

Before she allowed his body to hit the Earth at the bottom of the ravine, she stopped his fall.

The man hovered inches from the ground and then slowly, the woman lowered his body to the ground.

The man now lay at the bottom of the ravine, completely out of sight, unless you leaned over the edge of the ravine and looked for him.

The woman smiled, satisfied that the former Knight of Camelot would die a painful, lonely death.

 _But what if he dies before he comes to?_ Her inner self questioned.

She knew that that was very likely, considering that most of the man's blood was on the ground and trees in her wake.

She riskily cast one last spell on him. The woman whispered a powerful incantation, which allowed for some of his blood to return to the man's body, and sealed half of his wounds.

The woman smiled sadistically, and then turned to leave the forest behind. She walked in the direction of the sunrise, leaving her victim moaning weakly at the bottom of the ravine.

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Days passed before anyone even came in the way of the ravine, but had the one person who walked along the edge of the ravine not been who it was, the Knight of Camelot would have died at the hands of an evil sorceress. Luckily for him, the woman who walked there climbed down the steep slopes of the ravine and took to gravely injured man to her house hidden deep within the woods, for better or for worse.

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 **I hope you liked it! I warned that it might be a bit dark. I'll update as soon as I can, but I can't guarantee anything since I will most likely be very busy with life.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Alright, the real chapter 1. I wrote this chapter when I was on a four hour plane flight, so there may be a few typos, but there really shouldn't be since I've read over it about four times already because I had no wifi. I'm blabbering again, *snaps* here we go!**

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 **CHAPTER 1**

Blair walked throughout the quiet forest, listening to the beautiful calls of the birds and breathing in the forest air. To her, this forest was home, this forest was her safe haven. Everything about the forest calmed her, except for one thing.

A few days ago, she'd heard screams. Screams of pure agony. They had lasted from midnight until dawn. The worst part was, they had ended. Whomever had been screaming that night, had to be dead. Screams of pure agony like that did not result in life.

Yet for some reason, she felt compelled to find their owner. To find who had let out those screams, and at least give them a proper burial.

The only problem was she could not find the victim. There was no pattern to the blood splatters across the soil and tree leaves. It went in all directions. As if the torturer had had their victim run around wildly as they screamed Bloody Mary and chased after, striking whenever the chance stood.

Of course, she saw the weapons, scattered about the ground covered in blood. But those didn't help her.

For the past three days, she'd followed each trail of blood, in hopes of finding the victim, each ended in a dead end, and no victim.

There was only one possible trail left, she followed it. Walking over the dried out leaves, each step made a loud _crunch._ The stupid drought had been going on for three weeks now, and of course, gave no sign of ending anytime soon. It hadn't rained for that long either, and the land was perishing. The trees were losing their leaves, the ground was dry and cracking, and the creeks and rivers had already dried up. In three weeks, all of that had happened. But, the drought was helping her with this particular problem. None of the blood had washed away, because there was no rain to wash it away. On the down side, it led to the forest already being tainted with the smell, and tinted slightly red. So instead of breathing in nice forest air, she breathed in slightly sour smelling air.

Blair got wrapped in the memories of how this forest used to look, before the drought. The leaves on the trees had been green, emerald green. They had covered the canopy of the forest, and because the sunlight came through the thin slits in the between the leaves, the forest floor would always be cast in an emerald glow. The air would always smell fresh and each and every plant would have little drops of dew on its leaves in the morning. And, of course, the ground would be moist and rich with nutrients, unlike how it was now.

She snapped out of her memories when she realized she had almost stepped straight into the ravine. Half of her foot now hung over the edge of the rocks. She mentally scolded herself for getting caught up in the past. Blair always tried to live in the present, and not think about how things used to be. She moved her foot back from the edge of the rocks, and looked down at where the blood splatters led. They led nowhere in particular, just over the edge of the ravine, which was a stupid place to... Then she realized why the blood trail led to the ravine, the torturer wanted no one to find the body.

Now she was faced with two decisions: climb down the steep sides of the ravine, and be confronted with no way out and a mangled dead body or pretend like she never figured out where the body went and carry on with life.

She began to climb down the slopes of the ravine, carefully placing her feet as she went.

Halfway down she paused.

 _What the hell am I doing, I don't even know if I can get back out of the ravine, much less with a body. And why do I feel so compelled to do this, for all I know I could just find a dead body covered in flies and maggots. Ew... gross thought there. Okay, well, there's no turning back now. Just keep climbin', just keep climbin', just keep- Woah! Ow! Ow! Oof._

Blair fell down the last third of the cliff wall and landed in an awkward position on the ground at the bottom of the ravine.

Groaning, she slowly got up. She had slipped on a loose rock about ten feet above where she now stood. The fall had been painful, and Blair was bleeding from skinned elbows and knees. Her ankle hurt as well, though, luckily it wasn't bent at any unnatural angles.

Blair took three deep breaths to calm her nerves and to ease the pain.

Looking up she saw the gray rock faces on both sides that canceled out most of the light from the sun, casting the area she was standing in shade. All that could be seen of the world above was a thin strip of the blue sky and a few dried up tree leaves that still clung tightly to their branches.

Down in the ravine, the shade from the cliffs that rose up on two sides of her cast shade over her, and a lack of warm winds reached the area either, so it was cold. She began to shiver as she limped around the narrow area of ground that made up the bottom of the ravine.

If her memory served her right, which was doubtful since she was certain that she had hit her head in the fall, the blood trail had ended somewhere to her left.

Turning towards the left, she began to limp a bit farther.

It felt like forever that she was limping around the ravine trying to find the body of someone who she believed to be down here as well.

Blair was beginning to worry that she had fallen down here for no good reason.

Then she saw it. A mangled male body, with several cuts and many obvious scars from cuts, lying on the ground twenty feet in front of her. The smell was terrible, so she held her breath as she walked forward.

For some reason, he had not bleed out, even though he was surrounded in a small pool of blood.

Blair didn't know why, heck, she didn't know why she did a lot of things, but she put her hand on his forehead.

She gasped. There was still warmth in his body. He was somehow still alive. She didn't understand it, but it was so. She looked closer at his body, ignoring the horrid cuts and scars, and saw the faint rise and fall of his chest. Blair knew that there was only one thing she could do that held the chance of keeping him alive.

" **Gestepe hole! Þurhhæle!** " She enchanted. She leaned against the rock face in exhaustion. Healing spells always took so much out of her.

She watched, satisfied, as the rest of the man's wounds healed and the minor scars on his body disappeared.

The man's breathing, unfortunately, did not improve, but at least he no longer was bleeding to death.

Now that she knew that he was somehow still alive, she wondered what exactly she was meant to do with him. She figured he was too heavy to carry anywhere, unless she had a stretcher and three other people, which, of course, she didn't. All that remained was the option of using her magic. But even if she did decide to use her magic, her magic was too weak now to carry a grown man all the way back to her house, where she had the best chance of healing him.

She had no other options, she couldn't let the man die. Blair took a deep breath and began to enchant the man that lay at her feet.

" **Rǽdee ásce geotan** "

Nothing.

She tried again, this time summoning all of her will-power and strength into the words.

" **Rǽdee ásce geotan!"** Blair enchanted.

The wind whirled a bit, and then the man's body slowly lifted off the ground and into the air.

Slowly, she took her weight off the wall and began walking in the general direction of her house, though she still had no idea how she was going to get out of the ravine.

Blair was very surprised when she saw the rock face on her left slowly start to make a staircase-like shape. She backtracked a bit to the first step and began to climb the rocks. To climb the 'stairs' she would take seven steps forward along a horizontal stretch of the rocks and then have to climb up the three foot tall 'stair' and then do that process all over again. It wasn't easy, but at least it was something.

It felt like forever that she was climbing those rocks, but she knew that that feeling was just because of how exhausted she was. The man that she was keeping floating in the air behind her was taking a lot of her strength to keep up in the air, so that didn't help any.

Finally, she got to the top of the ravine. The only thing that kept her from stopping and sleeping right there was that the sun was on its way to the horizon, which meant that a patrol of the Knights of Camelot would be riding soon. They only patrolled this section of the forest once a week, and of course, today was that day. She had to get back to her home in an hour or less otherwise the Knights of Camelot would find her.

Blair staggered along through the woods, trying to keep conscious. She was almost to her house. This area of the forest was familiar to her, she knew that thirty seven steps forward would bring her to the right side of her house and then she would have to skirt her house to get to the front door. She quickly looked behind her to make sure that the man's body was still following her. He was, though he was getting dangerously close to the ground, which was not good. She breathed in sharply, which brought his body back into the air another two feet.

The clop of horse hooves against the Earth in the distance alerted Blair that the Knights of Camelot were on their way. She quickly hurried towards her house as the sounds of hooves beating against the ground and the shouts of men grew louder.

She reached her door and dragged the body of the man through the doorway behind her.

She closed the door and recited a camouflage spell at the very last second, right as the knights came into view.

She collapsed on the floor in complete exhaustion.

After a good twenty minutes of her just sitting there, against the door, she finally opened her eyes to check on the man she had just risked her freedom to save.

He was scarily pale, and scars covered his body everywhere except his face. His clothes were so torn that they weren't really clothes anymore, just pieces of brown fabric that clung to his body, plastered on his skin by dried blood. Blair could barely see his skin, other than the skin of his face, because of the dried blood that coated him. He still had some blood on his face, but not as much as the rest of his body did. At least he wasn't bleeding to death anymore, but he was still to close to death for her comfort.

Blair got up and walked towards her wash tub. She picked the giant container up and walked towards the door. She set it down to open the door but before she pulled open the door, she remembered to check to make sure that the knights weren't there. She cracked the door open slowly, and looked carefully around for any bright red cloaks. Blair listened for the sound of horse hooves. Nothing. Confident that the Knights of Camelot had moved on, she turned around, picked up the wooden wash tub and headed out to the well that lay hidden in the cluster of trees to her left.

She returned to her house, the wash tub full of water, and set it down on the floor next to where the man lay. He was her patient now. She was determined to keep him alive.

She grabbed a cloth from the cupboard, wet it in the fresh, clean water she had just gotten from the well, and began to gently wash the blood and dirt off his face and arms.

Blair wanted to believe that her patient was going to be all right, and that he would live to see the light of day many more times, but the more dirt and blood she washed off, the more wounds and scars she uncovered. She began to worry about him. If he did wake up, would he remember the gruesome torture that he obviously went through? Would he be physically able to walk, hunt, or fight like any other man, or had the torture wounds crippled him for life?


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **Okay, Chapter two. This chapter was fun to write. I hope it is as fun for you to read as it was for me to write.**

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Blair had washed all the dirt and blood off of her patient. Luckily, it was only his shirt that had gotten so torn up that it could not be used anymore. She had taken the strips of his shirt off him and washed them thoroughly, for she was planning on reusing the fabric for bandages, in case any of her patients' wounds reopened.

Blair wanted to use magic to heal the scars on his chest and arms, but she was afraid that if she did, she would pass out. She chose not to take that chance. Instead, used the herbs she had to make a healing paste, and added a little bit of magic to make it work properly. Luckily, adding magic to a healing paste wasn't as strenuous as using plain magic to heal him.

The sun was going down fast, and Blair wanted to be able to put the paste on his wounds before dark hit.

She dipped her index and middle finger into the thick, green paste and began to spread it across the biggest scar that crossed the man's chest diagonally.

The man was probably once very strong and able bodied, since some of his muscles in his arms, and of course, his abs, remained. Blair figured that the man that lay in front of her was quite a lady's man, and must have attracted the attention of a princess at some point in his life because he definitely had the looks of a prince, even when he was covered in scars.

Blair realized what she had been thinking. _Idiot, he's your patient, not your boyfriend. Plus, with his good looks he probably already has a girlfriend... not that I want to be his girlfriend or anything, that'd be stupid, I haven't even talked to him yet. You're just having these crazy thoughts because you're tired. Finish dressing his wounds, and go to sleep. When you wake up, you'll have your common sense back._

She quickly dressed the last wound with the paste and then changed into her nightgown and got in bed. She looked over at her patient, who still looked very pale and sickly and then blew out the candle for the night.

Morning brought new problems. For starters, the knights must have been very intrigued by the blood covered forest because they came back, this time with a full entourage of knights... and the King of Camelot, Arthur.

Arthur rode right behind the Knights that had been there yesterday; leading the group, but still following the Knights that knew where they were going.

She caught a piece of their conversation as they passed.

"Merlin, what on Earth are you doing back there. We don't have the time for your dilly dallying, there's evidence of extreme torture in these woods and your- what are you even doing?"

Blair wasn't entirely sure who King Arthur was talking to until a black-haired man riding lopsided in his saddle at the back replied.

"Just... checking the forest around us for foot prints, just in case."

"And does that require you to ride lopsided in your saddle, _Merlin."_ Arthur asked him.

"Lopsided," Merlin asked innocently as he shifted in his saddle to make it appear that he was riding normally, "What are you talking about, _sire?"_

Then with a yelp and a thump, Merlin fell off his horse; his saddle was now on his brown stallion, upside down.

King Arthur face palmed while some of the Knights, an extremely muscular one included, chuckled.

The black-haired man, Merlin, fixed his saddle and got back on his horse, but not before he looked over at where her house stood, camouflaged. His eyes seemed to catch hers, but she knew that he could not see her through the camouflage. Merlin seemed to want to come over to where she stood, but King Arthur had started to move along his patrol, calling for Merlin to catch up.

Blair had always heard, when she went to the market in Camelot once a month, that Arthur was a fair and just King, but from what she had just seen, she wasn't so sure. He had seemed rude to Merlin, but then, from the way Merlin was dressed, Blair realized that Merlin was probably Arthur's manservant.

The Knights, King, and manservant all moved along, heading in the direction of the ravine.

Blair realized how unnerved she had been by the patrol coming so close to her house and especially the servant, Merlin, had stared directly at her with his bright blue eyes. Something about that servant was different, maybe it was that he had the courage to sass the King of Camelot, but something about him had seemed almost...magical. And no, she was not thinking 'dreamily magical' as in 'he's so handsome' kind of magical. She had her common sense back. She was thinking 'magical magical' as in 'he has magic' kind of magical. Blair realized how brave the servant was, practicing magic right underneath the nose of the King of Camelot.

Blair knew that the patrol would be out there for hours, maybe even until nightfall. She had stuff to do though. She had to get water from the well for both her bath and to wash the paste from last night off her patient. She had to get fresh herbs for her dinner (and breakfast) and some for another paste. She also had to go hunting for the food she needed to use those herbs on. Blair also had to tend to her patient.

That was the other problem morning had brought. Her patient hadn't gotten any better, in fact he'd gotten worse. Now he was ghostly pale, barely breathing, extremely feverish, and two of his wounds had reopened. She'd used the pieces of his shirt that she'd cleaned last night to bandage the wounds as best as she could, but she would need many herbs that she didn't have to heal them properly.

 _He's really starting to become a pain in my side,_ Blair thought. Now she had to go out into the woods, and risk getting caught, to get some herbs. _Herbs isn't all you're getting, idiot, you are getting stuff for you too._

She quickly grabbed the wash tub and headed out the door, towards the well.

She returned home with the wash tub full of fresh water from the well.

First, she had to clean off the paste on her patient. She grabbed another cloth from the cupboard, different than the one she had used last night, since that one needed to be washed out and hung up to dry.

She wet the cloth and began gently wiping away the green paste that covered most of the man's upper body. After she cleaned the paste off each wound or scar, she would inspect it, to make sure it wasn't bleeding again or infected. She skipped over the two wounds that had begun bleeding again this morning, since those had bandages on them.

Blair considered using magic to heal more of his wounds, but eventually decided against it, instead choosing to see what she could do with herbs.

Herbs. That's what she had to do next. She quickly rinsed out the cloth, and the one from last night, and hung them up in the corner to dry. She left the safety of her house and went into the woods opposite to where the ravine lay. Blair hoped that the Knights, the King, and the servant weren't planning on going that way. She carefully picked her way through the familiar forest, but was careful not to step anywhere that would leave a footprint or make a _crunch._ As she walked, she picked whatever herbs would be of use to her, whether it be for cooking or healing purposes. She was glad to see wild growing rosemary, thyme, and rabbit's ear, and picked leaves from each of the plants. Blair picked a few more herbs, and then turned around to head home.

She got inside and set the herbs down on the table and quickly organized them.

Blair wanted to begin making the healing paste, but first she had to hunt meat for her dinner, and her _very_ late breakfast.

Blair grabbed her bow and quiver of arrows off the hook on the wall and set out for a speedy hunt. She tiptoed quietly through the trees until she spotted a rabbit sitting in a small clearing. She knocked an arrow and fired. Bulls eye. She moved forward, picked up her prey and walked back to the house. The hunting trip had taken much longer than she'd hoped, but then that probably had something to do with the fact that even she could hear the shouts of the Knights and King all the way over here when they were still at the ravine. Knights of Camelot aren't very quiet.

Once inside her house she started a fire, and began to prepare the rabbit for cooking. Skinning it was always the worst part, but unless she wanted charred rabbit fur on her meat (which she didn't) she had to skin it. She set aside the fur and was left with the meat, which she cut into four large slices. She sprinkled rosemary and other herbs onto the meat and put if over the fire to cook.

Having a fire would have been a problem if hers wasn't magical, which meant she kept it from smoking.

As she waited for the meat to cook to the right temperature, she began mixing up some of the other herbs into another, hopefully more effective, healing paste.

She turned to check on the meat, to find it already done. She pulled it off the fire and set it on the table. She added a few more seasonings to it, and then let it cool.

While the rabbit cooled, she used the flames from the fire to light a candle, and then poured some of the water from the wash tub onto the fire to put it out.

Blair checked her dinner. It was still way too hot to begin eating.

Blair walked over to the man that lay on the floor. She leaned over to the table and grabbed the rabbit's ear and another piece of cloth from the man's torn shirt. She undid the wrap she'd done that morning on the wound that had begun bleeding and placed the rabbit's ear on it instead. Then she used the fabric to tie it down. She walked back over towards the meat to find it at the perfect temperature for eating. She pulled at the meat with her fingers and began eating.

Blair knew that she should have applied the healing paste to her patient's wounds before eating, but she didn't really care because she had been starving. The last meal she'd had had been breakfast _yesterday._ She was hungry.

After swiftly eating one slice of the rabbit's meat, she took the rest to the loose floorboard in the back corner of the "kitchen" where she had dug out the soil underneath and has re-purposed it as an icebox.

Blair put the leftover rabbit meat— three large slices—into the hole and then cast a spell to make the air turn icy.

" **Bene læg gesweorc, Brimstréam.** "

Blair walked over to her patient, grabbing the bowl of healing paste along the way. She sat down crisscross at his side and began to apply it to his wounds. She tried not to think about how muscular he was.

She didn't finish, though, before the clip clop of hooves and King Arthur's playful yelling at his manservant alerted her that the Knights and company had seen all they wanted to see and were returning to castle of Camelot. She peeked out the door to watch them ride by.

"Arthur, I'm going to stop here for a bit, nature calls, keep going, I'll catch up." Merlin said.

"Okay, clotpole, don't take forever, _like usual_." Arthur tossed his words over his shoulder as he and the Knights of Camelot continued riding.

Merlin nodded, even though no one was looking— well, except her.

Merlin waited until the Knights were— she assumed— out of view.

Blair knew exactly what the servant was doing. Merlin had magic, she'd figured that out already, but his magic is strong enough that he could either sense hers or see through her camouflage spell.

Quickly she took her patient's body and hid him in the back room. A small room that she always kept locked, and even if it wasn't constantly locked, it was kept hidden with the most powerful of spells and runes possible. In other words: that room wasn't going to be noticed or opened by anyone but her.

She heard him call, asking if anyone was here. She knew she had to answer, because Merlin may have been asking, but she knew that he knew that she was here.

She realized that she didn't have the time to put away the healing supplies. Quickly, as to create an excuse for having a healing paste (and smelling like it), she used a knife and created a long cut along her arm. Then she whispered a magical incantation to heal it, but only halfway.

On her way to the door, she scooped a very small amount of the healing paste onto her new wound and walked cautiously out the door to greet the sorcerer.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3, I have to say this one went in a direction I wasn't expecting but that's okay.**

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Blair stepped out the doorway, closing the door behind her. She nodded to Merlin, the servant—the sorcerer— and said loudly, as to make sure Merlin heard her use magic, an enchantment to disengage the camouflage magic that hid her house.

Merlin's face showed that he was surprised that she had hid an entire house like that, but didn't seem at all fazed by her magic.

Blair walked closer to Merlin. The man didn't grow tense, he didn't even seem nervous. All that she could see on his face was curiosity, wonder, and other than the magical powers that radiated off him was a sense of calmness. It was as if this Merlin was completely separate from the one she'd seen fall off his horse.

"Hello, Merlin." She said to him, "My name is Blair."

Now he was surprised. It shown clearly on his face. It was probably because she knew his name, but she also had the feeling that it had something to do with her openness towards him.

"It seems you already know who I am." Merlin said.

At first, Blair was going to nod and act mysterious, and not let him know that she'd seen him earlier and that's how she knew his name. But then she decided against that course of action, instead choosing to lighten up the conversation a bit.

Blair nodded and then added "Yeah, I saw you fall off your horse earlier." She said with a laugh.

Merlin chuckled. She noticed him looking at the cut on her arm.

"So, what's it like being a sorcerer yet also being a servant of the King?" She asked, trying to avoid the subject of the cut on her arm since she hadn't the time to come up with a story to explain it.

Merlin looked as if he'd heard the question before. Merlin nodded and said, "Easier than you would think."

"I assume you came here to see if there was actually any magic in the area, and probably to ask me about the extreme amount of blood in the woods."

Merlin laughed. His laugh was sweet, but Blair knew that it was just an outer shell built up over time. She'd realized the second she saw the difference between the Merlin on his horse, riding through the woods by King Arthur's side and the one who had gotten off that horse to confront another sorcerer like himself. The one that stood before her now was a warrior, while the servant version of Merlin was merely just King Arthur's clumsy, idiotic servant boy.

"How'd you guess?" Merlin said lightly.

"Oh you know, the patrol that came by yesterday, and the decided to come back again today and stay all day. Which never happens. Also, you guys are the exact opposite of quiet. You ride through the forest tromping over the ground, shouting to each other when you are feet away from the person you are trying to talk too. If you listen right now, you could probably hear the King shouting for his manservant to hurry up."

Merlin nodded, and paused, she realized that he was listening. Then King Arthur's shout echoed across the landscape.

"Merlin! How long does it take to go to the bathroom! Hurry up we'll be all the way back to Camelot before you finish!"

They laughed, it was a good-hearted laugh, something she hadn't done in a long, long time.

"Yeah, I'll have to catch up as fast as I can. It's nice meeting you Blair, but may I ask, why Camelot? Why somewhere where if you got caught, you'd be executed?"

She thought for a moment, wondering if she should give him the truth or not.

"I can't leave. My soul and my body are tied to the lands of Camelot. Apparently, there is something I must do first. It's supposed to be my destiny. Until I find the person or thing that will complete the climax of my destiny, I physically cannot cross the borders of Camelot."

Merlin nodded, he seemed to grow solemn, probably from realizing her predicament.

"I will come visit you when I can, Blair." Merlin vowed.

"No need for that, Merlin. I'll be fine out here alone. And to answer your question about the blood in the forest: I truthfully don't know what happened. But if it is of any help, five nights ago screams echoed across this forest, but other than the blood and weapons on the ground, there is no other evidence."

Okay so maybe she wasn't telling the whole truth, there was more evidence, but the man currently locked in the back room wouldn't be of any use to Merlin until he woke up, which could be a while... or maybe never.

Merlin nodded to her response, a silent thanks for her 'help'.

"Goodbye, Blair." Merlin said.

"Goodbye, Merlin." Blair replied.

Merlin nodded, and then got upon his brown stallion and rode off at a canter, attempting to catch up with the rest of the patrol.

Blair went back inside her house, and recast the camouflage spell.

She walked into the back room, and gathered her patient and brought him back out on the area of the floor she'd had him laying earlier. Using magic, she healed the cut on her arm, glad it had served its purpose.

She sat down next to her patient and began to apply the healing paste to his scars.

As she did this she began to think about everything that had transpired in the last two days. She'd found a body in the bottom of a ravine, climbed up the rocks while using magic to have the body follow her so she could bring it back to her house and try to heal him. Then she'd been so tired that... actually, she didn't even want to go there. Eventually, she had finally gone to sleep only to wake up to more problems. Her patient not getting any better and a patrol of Knights and the King of Camelot scouting the area. She'd gone water, herb, and food hunting, and then had made enough food out of a rabbit to last her tonight's dinner and both of tomorrow's meals. Then she'd met Merlin the sorcerer gone manservant and had a nice, slightly one-sided conversation with him. And now she was sitting on the floor of her house applying a healing paste to the wounds of the guy she'd found in the ravine. Her life had suddenly gone from peaceful but lonely to a calm version of hectic.

After she finished, even though the sun was almost hidden entirely behind the horizon, she took he wash tub outside to the well, filled it up and brought it back to her house.

" **Forbearnan**." Blair whispered towards the water in the wash tub.

The water became hot, but not too hot that it wasn't suitable enough for a bath.

Before she undressed to get in the tub, she took one of the cloths for the drying rack and wet it in the hot water. She ran the cloth over the man's unconscious face, hoping that the heat might help him, even though it probably did nothing.

Blair undressed, and got in the tub for a nice, hot bath. She allowed herself to relax as she soaked, breathing in the steamy air that arose from the water.

After her nice relaxing bath, she took a piece of rabbit out of the icebox, heat it up using the same spell she did to warm her water, and dug into the food.

She quickly checked over the man's wounds and scars and was relieved to find them starting to show signs of healing.

She grabbed a blanket from the cupboard and draped it over him, then went to her bed, blew out the candle and went to sleep.

The next morning, Blair woke up, got fresh water from the water well, and cleaned the healing paste off her patient. Then she smashed new herbs together and used a stronger healing-inducing spell on the paste. She then went around her daily business, getting water from the well— which was beginning to dry out since it hadn't rained for four weeks now—, hunting, cooking, and collecting herbs. She repeated the same things every day for three more weeks. Merlin never came to visit, which was good, she didn't need to lock her patient back up in the back room again.

As far as her patient went, he wasn't getting any worse, which was good, but he wasn't getting much better either. His condition had barely improved over the weeks. All his scars and wounds had healed— except for the largest scar that ran across his chest when she had first applied the healing paste, but at least it was much smaller now— other than that he wasn't much better. His breathing was still shallow, and he was still pale from the blood loss. Other than the scars healing, the only good thing was his fever had gone down considerably. Blair worried that the man would never awaken, and that had entered a state like the one her brother had entered: one in which the victim was alive, but only just, and would spend eternity sleeping, until someone decided that they weren't worth taking care of and wasting precious supplies on anymore, and had to kill them.

Blair had watched that happen to her brother when he had grown gravely ill and fallen into a trance-like state. No magic of hers could save him either, she'd been an amateur at magic back then though. She'd waited months for him to wake up and smile again, but he never did. The chief of her village had decided to no longer care for him, and had her brother killed.

Blair missed her older brother, and the memory of his death still haunted her dreams. She'd been only nine when he'd been "put to rest" as the chief had put it. After that she left her village. Ran out. She couldn't stand to see the people who'd let her brother be killed. She'd tried to leave Camelot entirely, but her curse wouldn't let her, leaving her stuck in a Kingdom where she was not accepted and where she knew the people who had killed her brother still breathed. Blair had no intention of killing them, she just wanted to be as far away from them as possible, to never see them again.

Fourteen years later she still felt the same pain and sorrow as she did the day of her brother's death.

When Blair woke up the sun was shining brightly, with the same intense heat it had of the last seven weeks. No clouds were in the sky and there was no sign of rain. She was getting tired of the intense heat and lack of rain. The well was drying out and her baths had become farther and farther apart. She used less water every day. Now she barely drank anything, and used the majority of her water to keep care of her patient.

She walked over to him, and bent down to check to make sure his fever hadn't returned overnight. It hadn't, which was good. She was getting worried though, a month had passed and he still hadn't shown any signs of waking up.

Then, of course, she'd been avoiding using magic to heal him ever since the first day she had him here. She took a deep breath and began to enchant him.

" **Gestepe hole! Þurhhæle!"**

The man's breathing instantly deepened and his skin became full of natural color and warmth.

Blair smiled, she was certain that he would be okay. The only part about him that didn't heal was the scar that ran along his chest, but that, she figured, was okay and wouldn't affect him when he awakens...if he awakens.

 _No, don't think like that, Blair._ She scolded herself, _he will wake up, he has to._

She took a deep breath and ran the tips of her fingers along his forehead. She then turned around and grabbed the basket she'd set out last night for her monthly trip to the markets of Camelot. Blair went outside and mounted her horse that she kept hidden away safely down in the small valley near the well, and rode on through the woods towards Camelot.

The markets of Camelot were busy, as always. People were everywhere. Buying plums and oranges or at the forge having a blade made. Some drank thirstily from the well and others stumbled drunkenly out of the tavern. She smelled the scent of lavender, ginger, and pepper coming from a stand that held many expensive spices. The sound of voices rolled over the marketplace and echoed softly off the great stone walls of the castle. Blair loved seeing the way people interacted with their friends, and even strangers. Women would cheer and clap when they saw a dear friend and blush when a passing man flirted with them briefly. Men who walked by threw comments about how much better they were than someone to whomever they passed, unless it was a pretty lady, then of course he flirted while still telling her of his greatness. Children ran by, playing with whatever toy they could find.

Blair walked calmly over to where the spice stand stood, spotting the many herbs she could not find where she lived and had to buy here, in the heart of Camelot. She picked out her herbs: basil, cinnamon, thyme, sage, saffron, mint and ginger. She also went to a different stand and bought some ripe cloves, peaches, and apples. She had spent almost all her coins, which was not good. She'd have to do some stable work for a farmer somewhere before she came back to have enough coins for her next trip to the markets.

Blair began to walk back to where she had tied up her horses, only to catch a glimpse of Merlin. She ducked her head and hurried towards her horse, hoping that the servant hadn't seen her.

Halfway there she ran into a man. A man in armor. A man that had a very nice, very sharp sword. A man with a bright red cape. A man that was a Knight of Camelot. Blair mentally smacked herself, she had been so distracted by trying to _not_ be seen by Merlin that she had run straight into a Knight of Camelot.

Of course, he _had_ to be handsome. Just her luck.

His strong hands gripped her arms and she looked up in surprise at his face. The surprise on her face ignited a playful grin on his.

"Well hello, milady. I am Sir Gwaine. It would be an honor to have a name to match the beautiful face I see in front of mine."

She smiled and blushed, she'd never been called beautiful before. In her flustered state, gazing straight into Sir Gwaine's beauty bound brown eyes, she actually did tell him her name.

"Blair, my name is Blair." She said. The wide smile on Sir Gwaine's face initiated an expression similar on her own. She should have been angered that she'd told a Knight of

 _Camelot_ her actual name, but instead she felt nothing but joy.

"Blair... such a gorgeous name. It fits you, at least, the gorgeous part of it." Sir Gwaine said with a small wink.

Blair chuckled, not entirely sure how to respond to such a flirtation.

"Gwaine, stop hitting on the admittedly pretty lady and actually do the patrol you were assigned to do." Another Knight said. The one that had spoken was the muscular one she'd seen riding with King Arthur and Merlin when she'd first met Merlin.

Sir Gwaine chuckled, "Goodbye, Milady Blair. I hope with all my heart that one day we will meet again and be able to have a proper conversation."

Blair nodded, for she was unable to say anymore. She was caught up in a trance. A trance of the way his voice sounded, how it warmed the air around her even though it was already a hot day. The way he had called her "Milady Blair," as if she was a royal, and the way he had so explicitly said that he wanted to see her again. The way his warm hands had felt, gripping her arms, and the electricity that seemed to spark when he let go to leave, as if the air and surrounding particles didn't want him to release her.

She was snapped out of her trance when she was pulled violently backwards into a small alley between two shops. She whirled around to face the person who had pulled her here only to be met by the friendly face of Merlin. She exhaled in relief. It was just Merlin.

"Merlin," she said, greeting him with a slight smile.

"Blair, what are you doing here?" Merlin asked, getting straight to the point, skipping any pleasant greetings.

Blair pointed to her basket that had somehow stayed shut, hanging from the crook of her arm through everything that had happened in the last few minutes. "I was buying spices and a few fruits. I _was_ on my way back to fetch my horse before you stopped me."

"Gwaine stopped you first, I just held you back longer." Merlin said, defending his case.

"True," Blair said, acknowledging that Sir Gwaine had in fact stopped her first, and mentally acknowledging that had he not stopped her, she wouldn't be falling head over heels for him every time she thought about him.

"So, you were just here to buy spices and fruits. That's a relief, I thought that you were here to try and kill the King or to gain some special magical weapon to do that for you."

Blair breathed in sharply, realizing that Merlin saw her as a threat to King Arthur's life. She almost responded in a sharp manner, but eventually decided against that particular course of action, instead choosing to part ways with the servant.

"Goodbye Merlin," Blair said, pushing past Merlin out of the alleyway to where her horse was tied up.

She mounted her horse and rode the long ride back to her house.


	5. Chapter 4

**Omg, I am so sorry. I didn't realize that its been two months since I lasted posted a chapter. Please forgive me, just _life._ I've been busy with summer camps and everything. I read the reviews on my story and they really made my day. Thanks so much guys. You all have been asking for Lancelot to wake up soon so without further a do, here's Chapter 4...**

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Eight weeks. Eight weeks without rain. _Now_ it was finally raining. Pouring actually. Blair had woken up from a good night's rest only to awaken to the sound of rain beating down on her roof and the ground outside. She was cooped up inside her house. There wasn't much she could do. She'd already made food for the next two days- last night, her house was tidy, her plants were fine, and there was nothing more she could do to heal her patient. She was bored. The only thing she could do was to set her wash tub outside to fill up with rainwater. Blair grabbed the tub and set it right outside the front door.

Blair closed the door behind her, and walked over to where her patient lay peacefully on the floor. She remembered how she'd first found him, mostly dead on the ravine floor. He was so different now. He was completely healed (other than he scar on his chest that just didn't want to go away) but he still did not wake up. His condition was so alike to the one that had taken the life of her brother.

Blair snapped herself out of the memories.

 _You don't like to dwell on the past,_ she reminded herself.

She sat down next to her patient. She wanted to ask him questions, _what his name was, where he was from, who tortured him, why_ , but she knew that no answer would come.

Blair ran her hand along the side of his calm, beautiful face and began to hum a tune her brother used to hum to her when she was little and couldn't sleep. Her parents had always refused to sing or hum to her on stormy nights or when sleep was too busy to come to her, so instead her brother had. His tunes always made her calm, and his humming voice had been beautiful. She laughed a little, had she told anyone that her brother sang his little sister songs so she could sleep, he would have killed her.

Blair finished the tune, and started to get up to go check on how much water had filled the tub outside, but before she stood all the way up she saw his hand twitch and his eyes flutter. Joy filled her heart. He was awakening. But her joy was short lived, as the man did not move anymore.

Blair stood there staring at him, looking for any possible sign that he was awake. A twitch of the fingers or toes, or fluttering eyelids, but nothing happened.

Eventually, Blair gave up and checked how much water was in the tub. One-fourth of the way.

She came back to her patient and sat down next to him. With nothing else to do, she ran her hand along his arm and let it stop at his hand. She picked up his hand and held it tightly between her two hands.

"Please... wake up. You have to." She begged him. Slowly, Blair began the tune to the same song she'd been humming. As she went through the notes, she lost more and more of her hope, as the patient still wasn't waking up.

As the rain poured down outside, she sat on the floor next to him, holding his hand and begging for him to awaken.

She sat there most of the day, humming to him, and only getting up to eat a few small portions and have a small amount of water.

As the rain began to fall in lesser amounts and the sun began to shine again, she gave up all hope on him awakening.

Blair released his hand and stood up, deciding to get as much done as possible while the rain had paused and the sun was shining.

She walked out the door and found the wash tub filled completely to the top. In her hopes of her patient waking up, she'd forgotten about it entirely. She leaned down to its edge, where the fresh rainwater was, and drank thirstily, relishing the cold liquid. The cool taste washed over her mouth, relieving it from all its previous dryness.

Eventually, she forced herself to stop drinking the water. She picked up the wash tub and brought it inside her house, setting it down near the table, and grabbed her going-to-the-markets-of-Camelot basket. She turned to go back outside, and as she walked the few steps towards the door, in her peripheral vision, she saw her patient's eyes flutter. Instead of fussing over it, she just kept walking towards the door.

Once outside, Blair breathed in the smell of the air after the storm, and relished in the cool breeze that suddenly swept the forest. Everything about the forest was already greatly improving, even though the area shouldn't be able to recover so quickly from a severe drought that had lasted so long. The ground was now moist and the air as well.

She took the basket she'd brought with her and began picking up the dried leaves and twigs that had fallen on the forest floor during either the drought or the storm.

It took time, about an hour, but soon she had cleared away a good section of the forest, leaving the soil open to any more rain or other forms of weather. Her basket was full. She took the basket over to a spot near the well, where she always dumped the leaves and twigs she'd picked up off the ground, and dumped the contents all over the ground there.

She then took a small rock and dropped it down the well. She counted the seconds before she heard the splash. _One... two... splash._ The pebble had taken two to three seconds to reach the water, which was much better than the four to five seconds it had taken a few days ago, when she'd last checked the water levels.

She moved back to her house, taking every step as slow as possible. Maybe she was relishing the way the forest felt, or maybe she didn't want to go back to her house to find her patient still laying there, like every other time.

She took the clothes she had hung up on the clothes line last night and put them in the basket. She hadn't been expecting rain, so all the clothes she'd put out to dry were now soaking wet. Blair took the basket of wet clothes to the door, having to open the door with her elbow, since she was holding the heavy basket with two hands. She used her foot to nudge the door open and walked in.

What she saw caused her to drop the basket, its contents to falling out onto the floor. In front of her, rummaging unchivalrously, and loudly, through her belongings was her patient. Up and definitely awake. Oh yeah... and he had her sword.

And the second she opened the door and the basket clattered to the floor, he had it at ready. As if he'd held a sword all his life. Its tip was pointed straight at her, a clear way of threatening her, even though it was feet away, she knew by the way he held it that he could kill her with ease if she moved, even an inch.

She wanted to step towards him, tell him that everything was okay, tell him that she was not the enemy. But she knew, she knew that if she did that, that that would be the end of her days.

Instead she slowly held her hands up, pleading with her eyes for him to realize the truth.

"Who are you?" He yelled at her.

"My name is Blair. Please, I'm not the enemy, put the sword down."

"B- Blair." He said, his face showed confusion, though she wasn't sure why.

He didn't put his sword down.

Of course.

"Yes, that's my name." Blair said blatantly.

"Are you a puppet of Morgana?" He said forcefully, holding the sword tighter, as if this _Morgana_ person brought him bad memories.

"Who the hell is Morgana?" She said stupidly. The question had slipped out of her mouth before she could think about what she actually wanted to say.

The pieces of the puzzle started to fit together. Morgana. His torturer. That's why he said her name with such disgust. Morgana was the one who had cut him to pieces, put him back together, and then left him alone and unattended at the bottom of the ravine.

"Morgana Pendragon. King Arthur's half sister. Evil sorceress who took over Camelot a while ago and then sent the Dorocha to attack the world of the living." He said, his voice clearly showing was he must have been thinking: that she was stupid for not knowing who Morgana was.

She actually knew who Morgana was the second he said _Pendragon._ In fact, she'd met the woman before. This was another one of those memories she preferred to forget about, but of course, like the rest, it never really went away. About a year ago, Morgana had come to her, seeking her assistance in taking over Camelot. Obviously, she had said no, otherwise Morgana would still be on the throne of Camelot.

"Yes, yes. I remember her now. Let me guess... she's the one that tortured you and left in the bottom of the ravine?"

His face showed that he remembered the torture, or maybe she'd figured that out from the way he wavered in his threat and how his hand that he wasn't using flinched.

"How... how do you know that?"

"Oh simple, the blood all over the forest, and the blood covered weapons, the screams, and you know, _you,_ lying at the bottom of the ravine, very, _very_ close to death." Blair said, letting sarcasm sweep over her voice.

"But, why did you do this" he said, gesturing to his entire body, especially his still uncovered torso, "to me?"

"Heal you? Well maybe because _you were dying."_

"You did this... how?"

"You know, you ask a lot of questions for someone who just woke up after five weeks or so of healing time. Really, I wasn't expecting for you to be able to stand, much less point a sword at someone. Also, many people would consider it rude or slightly offensive- you, pointing a sword, sorry _my sword,_ at my face."

The man began to lower the sword he was holding, but he did not lower it completely. Now it was loosely pointed at her midsection.

"So you healed me?" He said.

"Yes! How many times do we have to cover this. I am not the bad guy. I am the good guy. I heal random guy I find at the bottom of a ravine. I keep random dude, who still hasn't told me his name, alive. I am good, not bad, like Morgana." Blair said, speaking to him as if he was a toddler.

This seemed to annoy him, she decided not to do that again.

"Look," Blair said with a sigh, "I found you at the bottom of the ravine almost dead and I dragged you all the way back here and used my magic to heal you. It took some time but eventually all of your wounds closed and healed properly, well except _that_ one." She said, gesturing to the scar that still crossed his muscular chest.

The man looked from the scar to her and then around at her house.

"You're a sorceress?" He asked.

"Yes. Well technically it's called _warlock,_ since I was born with my magic. But whatever." Blair said, and she realized that maybe this man was of Camelot and didn't like people who follow the path of magic. "Wait… you don't like sorcerers, do you?" She added.

The man slightly shook his head which took her by surprise. This man didn't mind that she was a sorceress.

"I know a warlock," the man said. "We are good friends. Or at least, we used to be. Now I don't think he knows that I'm even alive."

"Oh, okay." Blair said, not entirely sure how to reply to a statement like that.

The man lowered the sword completely and set it against the wall behind him.

He stepped forward and held out his hand. A handshake. A greeting. He was no longer wary of her.

"I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Let's try this again." He said.

She took his strong hand, which was so different from the limp one she'd held while he'd been healing. And the man spoke. Four words that conveyed so much. They converted trust, new beginnings, and friendship. Those words were:

"My name is Lancelot."

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 **Haha, you guys asked for it. :D Don't worry, I have a feeling Chapter 5 will be ready by the end of today so you won't be stuck on that cliffhanger for too long.**


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **Okay, this chapter is admittedly not one of the best. The entire chapter is awkward and tense and the only reason it's like this in general is for a certain relationship or two and the ending because I have to have the ending so we can eventually meet another OC of mine that's pretty important later on. There could be a lot of typos and errors in general because I'm too tired to edit. Anyways, I'm babbling again, that's something I do really well apparently... anyways I hope you enjoy the chapter more than I did.**

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Lancelot. His name is very beautiful.

 _Words, words, words come to me. This is getting awkward I haven't said anything yet and we're still shaking hands._

"My name is Blair." She said.

 _I already said that._

Lancelot let go of her hand and chuckled.

"You already said that," he reminded her.

"Yeah... I know. I can be an idiot sometimes. It's just... for the last five weeks I've been imagining you waking up and us talking, but I wasn't expecting it to go _this_ way."

Lancelot laughed. His laugh was beautiful, but strained. Something was wrong.

"Are you okay?" She asked him.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Something is wrong with you, I can hear it in your voice." She insisted.

"I said," Lancelot said, holding up his hand to block her advance to check on him, "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Let me help you, I can heal you if something hurts."

"I'm fine." He insisted.

She looked at him harder. The way he stood. The way he breathed. Looking for a way to see what was wrong with him. Then it struck her. He was sick mentally.

Blair stepped forward and put her hand on his chest. She realized how awkward that was after a moment, but it had become habit over the weeks, and at this point she was already touching him so she decided against moving away. He stiffened at her touch.

Under her breath she apologized, but she doubted that he heard her.

Blair expected him to grab her hands and stop her, or to tell her that he wasn't comfortable with her touching his bare chest like she was. But he didn't. He didn't even object in the slightest way, other than stiffening up.

Quickly, she ran her hands upwards, letting them come to a rest on his shoulders. Blair began to massage his tight shoulders, loosening up his muscles with every touch.

Lancelot sighed, and let himself relax as she massaged his tight muscles.

"What's wrong?" Blair asked him, letting her voice go smooth and silky.

"I'll never be able to go back to Camelot. The real Camelot. The castle, my friends, Merlin, Arthur, my fellow knights. Not even 'fellow' anymore because I'm no longer a Knight of Camelot. All I ever wanted was to be a Knight of Camelot, ever since I was a young boy, and it finally happened, and then it all ended. I died. Twice. Each time it was Morgana Pendragon who brought me back to life. And each time it hurt me or someone around me. I thought- I thought that when Merlin burned my body in the lake, that it would be the end. The end of everyone suffering because of me. And now I'm back. Again. And I can't go back to see my friends, I can't go back ever." Lancelot said, tears forming in his eyes.

Blair was taken aback by all of this. Lancelot was a Knight of Camelot? He knew Merlin? Arthur? He was dead twice and Morgana had brought him back to life? What exactly had this man gone though to put him in a state like this?

"Lancelot..." Was all she could say. Blair stopped massaging his shoulders, she stopped everything. All she did was breathe. Her hands rested on Lancelot's shoulders, no longer massaging him, and she hadn't realized it, but his right hand had moved to her waist. His touch was so ginger and so light. His fingers just barely touched her clothes, but the touch felt electric, like lighting was crackling between them. The moment seemed to last forever, stretching out into a million pieces, a million time frames of the way he breathed, how his eyes teared up from the thought of never returning to him home, how his hand brushed her side so gently, and how he looked straight into her eyes, as if she were his world.

His hand then touched her side completely and moved around her back, pulling her closer to him to him. She was now pressed against his body, their faces were so close that she could feel his breath against her forehead. His breath was warm and the way his arm wrapped around her was so comforting. It felt as if they were meant to be standing that way, that all of eternity had been waiting for them to meet, for her to step forward and touch him and for him to follow along, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Then the moment became awkward. They were just standing there, her hands resting on his muscular shoulders and his right arm wrapped around her waist.

She quickly moved away, becoming flustered, as did he.

"Uh... sorry, that was uncalled for." Lancelot said awkwardly, stepping backwards hurriedly and running into the table.

"No, no it's fine. I touched you first and then all that happened and..." she said, blabbering on and on, eventually fading out.

They both chuckled awkwardly.

But inside her head all she could think was that she wanted to go back to how they were. Standing so close, her hands on his bare shoulders and his hand so close to her waist. It had been beautiful while it lasted and she wanted to do it again. Blair wanted to feel the electricity pass between them once more.

 _Wait, what are you thinking? You don't feel that way about him. You can't. He was a Knight of Camelot. You're a warlock. Even if you did have feelings for him- which you don't- it wouldn't matter, it could never work. You never get what you want. Ever._

Blair nodded to Lancelot.

"I'm sorry, about everything. Camelot, your um... multiple deaths." Blair said.

"I shouldn't have told you all of that, we've barely just met, but something about you compelled me to tell you. I'm sorry. Look, if you don't want me around anymore, I can leave, I'll be gone by dawn. But, Blair, there's something about you. I can't explain it, but if feels like we have always been destined to meet, but if you don't feel that way, I can leave, and never return."

Blair didn't know what to say, so she just nodded.

Then she realized that she had just signaled that she wanted him to leave.

"I don't want you to leave, but if you want to leave, go to some other faraway land, I won't stop you." She said.

Lancelot nodded.

He was staying.

It was awkward. The rest of the day was awkward. Every time Blair and Lancelot talked, the conversation was strained, both of them remembering how close they'd been standing, how close their lips had been. Neither them couldn't stop thinking about how their meeting felt like it was destined to happen. And how it already felt so close to ending.

Finally, night came and cast its shadows across the forest.

Blair stood at her tiny kitchen, preparing the last two slices of deer she'd caught the day before for Lancelot and her. While she added the seasonings to the meat, she wondered whether or not Lancelot was thinking about leaving anyways. Had she been to awkward around him and he didn't like her anymore? Had he ever liked her? What had gone through her head that made her put her hands on his chest? What had she been thinking? She didn't understand. They'd just truly met, and everything had fallen apart in their first ten minutes of time together. She wanted to go back and start over. To do everything right.

Blair finished seasoning both of their meals and sat the plates down at her table. She sat at one end and he at the other. They ate in a strange silence for a while, but then she couldn't bear the silence anymore, for it was speaking too loudly.

"Lancelot, I have a lot to say. First, when we wake up in the morning, that sounds weird, when we see each other tomorrow, can it be a fresh start? Like tomorrow was the day you woke up, not today. Like you didn't point a sword at me and like everything that happened a few hours ago didn't happen either? Second, you said that you were a Knight of Camelot and you knew King Arthur and Merlin, I'd like you to know that they're alright, I saw them not that long ago, I talked to Merlin, and if you know Sir Gwaine, I talked to him too." She said quickly, saying every word as fast as possible because she was so nervous.

Lancelot seemed surprised by all of this. And it seemed to Blair that the only reason he didn't answer immediately was that she'd thrown so much on him at one time.

"Blair, I'd like a fresh start tomorrow morning. Today was awkward, which is, to be honest, understating it a bit." Lancelot said.

Blair laughed and nodded her head in agreement.

"Also, may I ask, how do you know Merlin and Gwaine?"

"Oh that... well the morning after I found you, a patrol of Knights, led by Arthur came along because another patrol saw the blood the night before, and Merlin sensed my magic because of his connection to magic- crap, you weren't supposed to know that." Blair said, realizing her mistake.

To her complete surprise, Lancelot laughed. And apparently the look of pure shock and confusion on her face made him laugh more. Blair looked on, still confused, as Lancelot fell out of his chair and laid there on the floor, laughing.

She began laughing too, but not nearly as hard.

Eventually, Lancelot got up and sat back down in his seat, a wide smile across his face.

"I know about Merlin's magic," Lancelot said, still chuckling, "I've known for a long time."

"Oh," Blair said.

"Please, continue."

"Of course. Merlin sensed my magic and managed to get a conversation with me. So that's how I know Merlin. I know Gwaine because I went to the market in Camelot and he was there and... flirted with me." She told.

Lancelot smiled, "Gwaine always was a ladies man, and he flirts with whomever he passes."

"I can certainly believe that." Blair snorted.

"Did he call you a princess? Or 'Milady'?"

"Yeah he did," Blair remembered, rather fondly. She'd been so busy recently that she'd forgotten all about the handsome Knight she'd run into at the market.

"That'd be Gwaine, always flirting with the ladies." Lancelot affirmed.

"Did you ever have a special someone?" Blair asked him. Yes, she knew that it was a stupid question, considering what had happened earlier, but she was curious and wanted to get to know Lancelot better.

Lancelot hesitated. Blair immediately realized that his love life was touchy for him.

"I had a love once. She's a beautiful and smart woman, but she was in love with someone far greater than I." Lancelot said vaguely.

"Okay," Blair said, trying to figure out who could be greater than a Knight. "What was her name?" She inquired further.

"Guinevere." Lancelot replied.

The pieces started to fit together in her head perfectly.

"You were in love with Queen Guinevere." She breathed, hardly believing what she was saying.

"Queen?" Lancelot said, surprised.

"Yes, she married King Arthur and... oh you didn't know that they got married did you?"

Lancelot shook his head. "I knew of their love for each other, and at one point I was alive when they were about to get married, but I was under a spell cast by Morgana then, and she had me end it. Guinevere was exiled. How did she become Queen?"

Blair hesitated. "I don't know. I only visit Camelot's heart once a month to get supplies I cannot get here."

"Oh," Lancelot said, dismayed.

Their conversation faded out after that point. There was no more laughter and no more questions. Blair, for once, knew not to push Lancelot. She already knew that his soul had been crushed by what she'd told him about Queen Guinevere.

Still, it was the most lively dinner she'd had with someone in years.

Quickly, Lancelot had finished his dinner, and made the blanket on the floor into a bed for himself.

Blair watched him solemnly, wondering what was going through his head.

Eventually, she got in her bed and cast a spell to blow out all of the burning candles.

With the morning came bright daylight and another trip to the market. This time it wasn't for herbs and spices, but for cloth. Or a shirt. Either would work, but Lancelot still didn't have a top, and she often found herself staring, so she decided that she'd have to get him a top.

Lancelot wasn't doing anything when she left, just sitting on the floor, staring at nothing in particular, which she felt kinda broke their agreement about today being a fresh start.

Blair rode her horse all the way to Camelot's heart, dismounted, and began looking for something that would fit Lancelot.

Eventually, she found it. A brown cloth shirt that she knew would fit Lancelot perfectly. She bought it and began to leave.

Before she got to her horse, a Knight stopped her.

"Milady Blair," Gwaine said.

"Sir Gwaine," She said, surprised. "I didn't think you'd remember me. I figured you'd move on to some other maiden."

"Then you misjudge me. I could never forget such a beautiful face."

While Gwaine flirted, Blair noticed another Knight ride up behind him.

"Gwaine." The other Knight said.

Gwaine spun around, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Oh! Elyan!" Gwaine exclaimed, taking his hand off his sword. "This is Blair."

Blair courteously nodded to the Knight.

"Oh, Blair. The one you go to the market for everyday but never actually see, well, until today." Elyan said.

Elyan's statement about Gwaine looking for her everyday without fail made Blair blush.

"Really?" She asked.

"Yes, you've captured my heart, Milady Blair."

"Sir Gwaine, please, there is no need to call me 'milady' I am just a woman, I am as far from royal as you could get."

"But you are as beautiful as royalty," Gwaine protested.

"No, Sir Gwaine, I am not." Blair answered.

"You are to me," He professed.

That one statement caused a smile to spread across her face. Blair glanced downward quickly, avoiding Gwaine's gaze.

She looked up, to see another Knight riding towards them. Which was not good considering she didn't want to make a big scene. The one that rode towards them had long, wavy, blond hair. He shouted at Gwaine.

"Gwaine! Is this the woman you keep blabbering to us about or have you finally moved on?"

Gwaine ignored the Knight's question, instead looking Blair straight in the eyes.

Blair was surprised when he took her free hand, and kissed it.

"I'd like to see you again. Soon. Maybe we could meet somewhere. Somewhere... quiet, where Leon and Elyan won't be here to bother us and people won't be watching. I could meet you in the forest. The big clearing between the old well and the river that separates Camelot from Escitir. Tonight." Gwaine whispered to her.

Blair was too surprised to do anything but nod.

Blair returned back to her house to find that Lancelot had cleaned up parts of the house, filled the wash basin up, taken a bath, filled it back up again, and was now sharpening her sword.

"Wow," she said, hardly believing that he'd cleaned both the house and himself in the short amount of time she was gone.

Lancelot looked up at her. "Good morning, where have you been?"

She held out the shirt. "I got you a shirt, I figured that you'd want one."

Lancelot took the shirt graciously and put it on.

"Would you like to go hunting?" She asked him.

Lancelot immediately perked up. "Hunting?"

"Yeah, we need some more food for dinner tonight," she reminded him.

"Of course. Do you want to come with me or do you have more important things to do?"

"I have to finish up here, get a fire started, herbs prepared, wash myself off, and a few other things. You can use my crossbow, it's in the back room," she told him, pointing towards the back room.

Lancelot nodded and went to retrieve the crossbow. Once he had it, he left to go hunt.

She did all she need to do and Lancelot returned with a large buck for dinner.

She prepared it and they sat down for a great meal, though she didn't eat much for she was saving room for later that night.

Once dark had fallen completely and Lancelot had gone to sleep, she found herself sneaking out of the house to go meet Gwaine.

Technically it wasn't sneaking, since it was her own house, but she didn't want Lancelot to wake up and ask where she was going, so she was being as silent as possible.

That, of course, meant she ran into the table. _Idiot._

Luckily, Lancelot didn't wake up.

She got to the clearing without any other difficulties, except her horse stopping to poop or eat something... twice.

She dismounted her horse at the edge of the clearing and walked the rest of the way to the center. Waiting there for her was Sir Gwaine, with an entire picnic dinner spread out as well. The place was lit with the small glow of candles.

Blair was glad that the candles didn't cast much light because she was blushing. Hard.

Once Sir Gwaine saw her, he got up and greeted her.

"Hello, Blair. I wasn't sure you were coming."

"Well, we never specified a time, other than 'tonight'." She pointed out.

"Oh," Sir Gwaine said, chuckling. "Well then, let's get on with this."

He took her hand and guided her to the blanket that laid across the grass. She sat down, and he did the same on the other side.

They talked for hours, each of them sharing stories of their lives while they ate. Eventually dawn came and they parted ways, Blair back to her house and Gwaine back to Camelot.

Gwaine couldn't stop thinking about Blair's smile, how she laughed, the way her hair fell perfectly around her shoulders, how she looked in the light of the moon, and how gingerly she picked up the strawberries he'd brought with her beautiful, soft hands. He couldn't believe he'd ever fallen in love with anyone else. He now knew what love was: for he had been holding her hand not that long ago.

Blair couldn't stop thinking about how Gwaine smiled at her, how he held out his hand to help her get up, how he laughed at her horrible jokes, how the night breeze ruffled his shoulder length brown hair, how he looked at her as if she was his entire world, and how the moon reflected in his eyes. She wanted to see him again, to spend more time with him, to feel his hand holding hers once more, but they hadn't even thought about it. They'd been so rushed to get back to their homes when they realized the sun was rising that they hadn't even stopped to think about when they'd meet again. But now it was too late to turn back to ask, for he would be nearing Camelot and she was already upon her house.

She walked in the door to find Lancelot sitting at the table, fully awake. The expression on his face was indescribable, maybe it was dismay, or disappointment, it could also have been confusion, or just plain tiredness, but whatever it was, she didn't like it.

"Morning, Lancelot." She said, nodding to him.

"Good morning. Do you always spend hours of the night in the woods or was tonight a special occasion?"

"What are you talking about, I left not that long ago." She lied.

"Blair, I saw you leave _hours_ ago. What were you doing?" Lancelot implored, his tone getting louder and harsher the more he spoke.

Blair could have told him, but she didn't. It wasn't any of his business what she did in her spare time, her love life was hers, he didn't need to know about any of it.

"It's none of your business Lancelot." She snapped.

Lancelot didn't reply, which she should have taken as a warning.

"As you already know, I've been up all night, I'm going to go to sleep now, wake me up in an hour or two." She instructed.

She stormed past him, towards where her bed was, laid down, and fell fast asleep.

Had Blair noticed that Lancelot hadn't nodded or said anything when she'd told him to wake her up, she wouldn't have been so surprised to wake up in the late afternoon. And she wouldn't have been so surprised when Lancelot was nowhere to be found.

* * *

 **Ooh, _cliffhanger._ I do that a lot don't I? Anyways, so as I said, awkward and tense and probably a bunch of typos. Idk what you guys thought but to me it all just felt kinda forced, but that's because it had to be there. Well, hopefully the next chapter will make up for things because chapter 6 will be in Lancelot's perspective! Also, if you didn't like my whole Blair/Gwaine pairing I'm sorry but it's there for a reason. Regardless of what I may write in the future, I'd love to hear your input on things related to Blair/Gwaine or Blair/Lancelot. Who knows, your comments could make me change my mind about who I want Blair to end up with. **


	7. Chapter 6

**Hello! I am so sorry that I keep taking so long to update! This seems to be a reoccurring problem. Well, better late than never I guess... As I said last chapter, this one is in Lancey's perspective! I'm also very proud that it's 19 pages long on Word. In this chapter there's a new OC I hope you guys will like and this whole Gwaine/Blair or Lancelot/Blair love triangle was totally unintended I swear. I got a few reviews on what people wanted to happen there and I must say, it made my day to know that you guys read my story. When you guys review, I get feedback on what you guys want to happen and it helps me so much with the story! Also, don't worry, Lancelot doesn't stay away from Blair and Camelot for long...**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

Maybe he overreacted. A bit. Sure, Blair had given him a safe home, food, water, and friendship, but he didn't know what she'd been doing out in the woods. For all he knew, she was sided with Morgana and she'd been reporting on him. That had been his first thought, and he ran with it. He couldn't trust Blair anymore.

At one point, he'd felt as if he could tell her anything, she had made him feel safe. That was when her soft hands had been gently massaging his shoulders. He'd been looking into her beautiful eyes, one a light blue and the other a dark blue, and he'd felt at home. Maybe that was why he'd been an idiot and almost kissed her.

Somehow, Blair reminded him of Guinevere. Maybe it was her confidence that hid behind a friendly, innocent smile or the way Blair always seemed to know what was wrong and how to help, maybe it was the strength that hid behind the kindness in her eyes. But now, he didn't know what he thought of her. So, he'd left.

Yes, he'd thought about leaving a note, but honestly, what was he going to say. _Hey Blair, I think you're sided with Morgana even though you told me otherwise when we first met, so I left. Yeah, um, don't come looking for me. Sincerely, Random Dude You Found At The Bottom Of The Ravine AKA Lancelot._

Yeah, no.

So, Lancelot kept running. Running away from Blair and away from Camelot.

He was in Escetir at nightfall. There were no houses around, so he couldn't ask to stay with someone. He instead found a dip in the forest floor, curled up in it, and slept there.

Escetir wasn't the best land to go to. They don't take well to strangers. When Lancelot woke up, he was surrounded by eight men, twice his size, all with swords pointed directly at his face. He thought about fighting them off, but he didn't have a sword, or anything at all. As much as he hated it, he put his hands up in surrender.

The men dragged him to his feet and continued to drag him into a dark cave that shouts echoed out of. Before he was all the way in, one of the men took a large club off his belt and swung it at him. Lancelot didn't have the time to move away. The club hit him hard, and the world began to spin as darkness filled his vision.

When Lancelot came to, he was in a cell. Great. He slowly started to stand, wincing in pain. They'd really hit his head hard.

Once standing, he began to stumble around the dank cell, looking for a way to get out. Shouts echoed above him.

Eventually, Lancelot sat down on the cold, damp floor. _How had he been so foolish as to let himself get captured?_

The shouts drew closer and men appeared.

They unlocked the cell and grabbed him forcefully. They dragged him all the way to a main tavern in the cave, where a large cage stood. Men surrounded the cage and were yelling and cheering. Lancelot managed a glance inside the cage right as a large brute killed a scrawny man. He gasped in shock. These were cage fights.

He'd been in many of these before, many years ago. He hated them. Back then, they'd been the only way for him to earn money, but now he was being forced to fight.

The men threw him into the arena with the large brute.

Instantly, the large brute swung at him. Lancelot quickly dodged the attack.

He didn't have a weapon or any armor, while the man he was facing had plenty of both. The man was covered from head to toe in blood splattered chain mail and wielded two swords, and, of course, Lancelot saw a long dagger in its sheath at the man's side. There was no way to win this, not without something to block the man's attacks with.

The man swung twice more, and each time, Lancelot barely got away.

He ran around the arena, just trying to keep his distance from the brute so he could keep his life. While he ran he tried to figure out a way to get a weapon.

A stupid idea passed Lancelot's mind. Unfortunately, it was the only one he had. Quickly, Lancelot turned away from his attacker once more a fled to the far corner of the arena. His attacker advanced, and when he was within five feet of where Lancelot stood, Lancelot charged at him, screaming for blood for extra effect.

The idiotic plan worked. The brute was not expecting Lancelot to scream in his face. The brute stumbled backwards in surprise, and Lancelot tackled him. The swords clattered away, ending up on the far sides of the arena. Quickly, Lancelot took the dagger from the man and threw it towards the edge of the cage where one of the swords lay.

He was on top of the brute now, straddling him. Lancelot punched the guy in the jaw, knocking him out cold with one blow.

All of this made the crowd go insane. Absolutely insane.

Lancelot stood up and walked to where one of the swords lay. He picked it up and raised it to the cave roof for the excitement of the crowd. He knew how these fights worked: if you didn't impress the crowd and whomever hosted the fights, you would die.

Men came into the cave and dragged the brute away. Lancelot waited for them to take him away to his cell as well, but no one even came near him.

Then, a young man was thrown in. He had to be, at maximum, half Lancelot's own age. His opponent wasn't even a man yet, he was just a boy. But the boy stared at him with gruesome eyes. His intentions were clear to Lancelot: the boy was going to kill him, no matter what.

The boy drew his sword and charged Lancelot. Lancelot blocked the strike, but only just. They kept going like that for what seemed like forever, the boy striking and Lancelot blocking. Eventually, Lancelot grew tired of being backed into uncomfortable corners and almost killed at every second. He attacked. He began to slice his sword through the air, becoming the attacker. The boy he was fighting stumbled backwards and blocked. The roles were reversed now. Lancelot was in charge of the fight. He sent blows hurdling through the air, all of which barely got blocked.

The fight went on and on, the two switching roles between attacker and defender.

The crowd was growing bored, and Lancelot was growing tired. Tired of constantly blocking or constantly striking. His breath was growing short. He hadn't healed all the way yet. He was growing tired of the crowd throwing rotten tomatoes at him through the steel bars of the arena. And even more so, he was tired of looking at his opponent's blank, soulless face as they tried to keep their lives.

The kid was good, scary good. Lancelot had never met a man who could manage to last this long in a fight with him. A _boy_ who could do it: almost impossible. Yet it was happening, right in front of Lancelot's face.

Lancelot had enough. He quickly placed two strikes to the kid's torso, along with a feint after the second strike, followed by another strike. This was a move that couldn't be blocked by even the great King Arthur himself. He delivered them so fast that the kid could only block the two before feint.

Blood gushed out of a deep wound in the boy's arm.

Lancelot instantly felt guilty for hurting him.

 _He's trying to kill you, you have no choice if you want to live._

And, of course, Lancelot wanted to actually stay alive on this life, so he continued to fight.

The crowd was regaining their spirits as Lancelot attacked his opponent with renewed effort. The boy stood no chance.

The boy fell to the ground, and Lancelot pointed his sword at him. Lancelot didn't want to kill the boy, he didn't want to kill anyone.

"Give up," Lancelot begged. "If you don't, I'll have to kill you, don't make me do that. You're young and skilled with a sword, you could leave these fights and never return."

The boy seemed to consider it, but then said two words Lancelot never wanted to hear from someone so young. "Kill me."

"No."

"Do it. I have nothing to live for, no warm bed to return to. Kill me and you'll end my life of suffering."

This statement crushed Lancelot. He knew what it was like to not have a safe home, or anything to live for. Yet, he kept living. The boy was to do the same.

"No," Lancelot said, more forcefully.

The kid hesitated, but eventually nodded, and to Lancelot's relief, tossed his sword to the other side of the arena. Lancelot followed his lead and held out his hand to help the kid get up.

The kid accepted and introduced himself. "My name is Allard."

Lancelot nodded. "And I am Lancelot."

The crowd was mad now. There had been no death or someone getting knocked out.

Lancelot turned to the kid. "I'm sorry."

And he punched the kid straight in the jaw.

Apparently, that had been the last fight for the night, as the men dragged him back to his cell and threw him in.

He waited there in the darkness. His joints and muscles ached, his head throbbed, his breathing was ragged, and his stomach growled, begging for food. He tried to go to sleep, but sleep would not come. So he sat there on the cold, slightly damp stone floor, waiting for morning.

Sunlight began to slowly stream in through the slit at the top of the cell. Morning. The night had been long and cold. He'd drifted through thoughts and memories all night long. Many of them were of his ex-lover, Guinevere. She was Queen now. She deserved that. Gwen had always been so lovely and kind and Lancelot knew that she was a good Queen, there was no doubt in his mind. Some of his other thoughts had been on Merlin, Arthur, Percival, Gwaine, Elyan, and Leon. How were they? How was Camelot?

The rest of his thoughts had been on Blair. Who was she really? What were her intentions? What had she been doing that night? He didn't know, but he worried that she was in league with Morgana. Now that he wasn't with Blair anymore, he realized that he wasn't planning on ever returning, no matter how much he wanted to see her smile and eat the warm food she made again.

The guards came into his cell and brought him back to the arena. They threw him in and the slowly growing crowd went wild.

Lancelot stood up, only to duck when a wooden sword flew at him. It landed on the far side of the arena, and he lunged to retrieve it. So far, this was his only weapon.

Lancelot had already learned that whatever weapon you retrieved in the fight, you could keep. Until they threw you back into the cell, that is.

He stood back up, now holding a small wooden sword.

Then, his opponent was thrown into the arena. Sorry, _opponents._ Lancelot now faced three fully armed men.

And the fight began. Lancelot blocked the attacks that happened on all sides of him.

Surprisingly, the fight didn't take long to end. Soon all three men lay dead on the arena floor, leaving Lancelot the only one left standing.

Instantly, he felt guilty for ending their lives.

He forced himself to shake it off, knowing that those wouldn't be the only lives he'd have to take if he wished to live– which for once in his life, he did. Lancelot finally had something solid to live for: himself. The first time he was alive, he was originally living so he could become a Knight of Camelot, after that he'd had nothing to live for. Then he saw Guinevere again and she became the only thing he had to live for, the only reason he wanted to live. He'd died, whether for Gwen or for Camelot, he'd sacrificed himself. Now, Gwen was married to Arthur, he was no longer a Knight of Camelot, and he couldn't return to Camelot either. But now he was finally realizing that living for himself was worth so much more than only living for a Kingdom or a woman.

Three weeks went by. Fights three times a day. Water opportunities once each day. Food once every three days. Baths every nine days. That was the schedule. Lancelot was starving and weak from the treatment. He'd been trying to find a way to escape, and he'd figured out about twelve percent of one.

There was only one problem: he had to get Allard out as well. Which was hard because Lancelot had no idea where Allard's cell was. The three people in the cells around him didn't even know who Allard was, only that his cell would be in another antechamber off the main room.

When the guards came to take him to where he would be taking a bath he followed along. They passed an antechamber on the way to the baths, and he fell into a coughing fit, stumbling his way down the antechamber. He collapsed on the floor (for extra effect) and looked around briefly. Five cells surrounded him now, and three of them were empty. In the cell closest to him, was a large brute whose smell reached Lancelot. In the cell that lay the farthest from him of them all was a young man who was to thin and to pale. It was Allard. Allard looked up at Lancelot and they made eye contact.

"We are getting out of here," Lancelot said.

Allard seemed surprised Lancelot had come here, but he nodded.

Footsteps echoed throughout the stone tunnel as the guards caught up with him.

They got to him and forced him to stand.

Lancelot then did what seemed like the only thing he could do. He tackled the first guard to the floor and wrestled with him. To anyone that wasn't himself, it would have looked like Lancelot was just trying to knock out the guard, but Lancelot had other motives: to get the keys that hung on the guard's belt. Though doing that still involved knocking the guard out.

The second guard started to pull Lancelot off the first guard, but Lancelot simply elbowed the guy in the neck, and that was that for that guard. The second guard fell to the stone floor, dead.

That made the first guard easier. The man was in shock that Lancelot had just killed his colleague. The guard gave up on fighting Lancelot and was now just staring at him in fear, occasionally glancing over to the second guard's dead body. Lancelot quickly knocked the first guard out and took the key ring on his belt.

He got up and walked over to Allard's cell.

"Lancelot?" Allard breathed.

Lancelot nodded. "I've come to get you out."

Lancelot began to try every key on the key ring to Allard's cell's lock. Eventually he found the key to Allard's cell. The door swung open, and Allard shakily stepped out. Lancelot put his arm around the young man to support him, though Lancelot doubted he was of any help since Lancelot was just about as weak as Allard.

They stumbled down the cave corridors, as they tried desperately to find a way out.

Lancelot should've planned the whole escape thing out first, because he had absolutely no idea how to get out. Lucky for him, Allard knew.

They stumbled towards another antechamber that had bright sunlight coming out of it.

Guards noticed them, of course. Lancelot and Allard had to pick up the pace. They began to run towards the light of the exit whilst guards angrily followed, shouting foul words at them.

Lancelot and Allard stumbled into the light of the sun, right before sunset. Sunlight streamed through the growing leaves of the trees. They continued to stumble through the landscape while guards followed.

The guards must have given up following them on foot because the echoes of footfalls stopped. Still, they continued running because they knew that the clop of horse hooves would soon be chasing them through the woods.

Lancelot began to lead them in the direction of Mercia's western border.

"No," Allard protested weakly.

"Why not? We can't stay in Escetir, they'll find us." Lancelot answered.

"I... I can't go to Mercia." Allard replied.

"Why the hell not?"

"I just can't, okay." Allard said forcefully.

"Okay..." Lancelot said, trying to figure out where to go instead of Mercia. They couldn't go south to any of the lands below Escetir, because it would be more than a day's journey to get there and they would be traveling through Escetir. They couldn't go to Angila for the same reason. That left only one option: Camelot.

Lancelot turned around, and began to head towards Camelot.

"Camelot?" Allard asked.

"There is nowhere else to go," Lancelot said, matter of factly.

Allard nodded and the two hurried towards Camelot's border.

As Lancelot had assumed, horse hooves pounded against the Earth behind them.

The pair ran faster through the forest, leaping over fallen trees and getting scraped by brambles as they went.

They came upon a rushing river; the river was one of the many parts of the border between Camelot and Escetir. Lancelot went into the river and Allard followed.

The water was freezing and a deep chill reached Lancelot's bones. The current wrapped around his legs and waist. He continued to cross the chilling river. As he stepped on the slippery rocks at the bottom of the river, they shifted underneath his feet. One rock shifted violently and that, mixed with the raging current, swept Lancelot off his feet. He fell face first into the water and the current dragged him downstream. Lancelot fought against the water, trying desperately to breach the surface so he could breathe. The one time he did manage to get air, he heard, over the rush of the water around him, Allard yelling for him.

"Lancelot!"

Lancelot flailed his arms wildly in the water, searching for a rock or a sunken branch to grab onto.

For a split second, Lancelot managed to pause his mad tumble through the water and looked around to see Allard thrashing through the river towards him. Apparently, the young man had slipped as well and was now barreling towards Lancelot.

Lancelot wanted to move out of the way, but he couldn't. For if he did, he'd continue to tumble down river and then down the waterfall that Lancelot knew wasn't far away.

Instead, he looked around wildly, trying to find another strong foothold and a handhold.

There was nothing to hang onto other than the foothold and the precarious handhold he already was gripping. Allard was barreling towards him at an alarming rate. It wouldn't be long now.

Then, a soft glow caught Lancelot's attention. It was a small campfire. That meant people were in the area, and unless Lancelot's sense of direction had gotten jumbled in the tumble, the fire was on Camelot's side of the border. That meant it was either friends of Camelot or bandits.

Lancelot decided to take his chances.

He yelled out to them. Two silhouettes appeared. One a lean, obviously able-bodied man and the other a woman. Lancelot realized that for a man and a woman to be out at night, so far away from the city, they were on a date. Probably a forbidden one too.

 _You just ruined their probably wonderful date by slipping on a rock and tumbling down the river. Good job._

Lucky for him, the man and the woman saw him and wanted to help. Lancelot saw their figures rush towards them, and he hoped that they would see his predicament because Allard was almost upon him.

The woman's head turned towards the man, and then the female figure straightened. The woman turned back towards Lancelot and he saw her eyes glow gold.

Suddenly, the water stopped its mad rush as everything around him slowed down. Everything except the man, the woman, and Lancelot.

The silhouette of the man turned quickly towards the woman's, obvious surprise.

He heard a familiar voice exclaim. "You have magic!"

The woman nodded, and proceeded to walk into the river. First, she went to Allard and dragged him out of the water. Lancelot then saw a flash of gold and Allard's form come out of the slow-motion state.

The woman turned around to get Lancelot, but the man caught her arm. "Why didn't you tell me?"

A soft, also familiar voice responded. "You are a Knight, and I am of magic, I didn't know what you'd think."

The man grabbed the woman by the waist and pulled her close. Lancelot watched as the two kissed, and he heard the man whisper to the woman. "I love you far too much to ever think foully of you."

Lancelot figured that the two were too caught up in the moment to help him, so Lancelot stood up and walked to shore himself.

He came close enough to see their faces and he realized why he'd recognized the voices.

The voice of the woman was a voice he'd wished to hear again and then at the same time a voice he wished he'd never have to hear again. The beautiful voice belonged to Blair, and the man was his old pal, Gwaine.

In astonishment, Lancelot broke the moment.

"Blair? Gwaine? What the hell?"

* * *

 **You guys must hate these cliffhangers and how long I take to update...**

 **Luckily, I'm going to _try_ to make an effort to update every two weeks or so. I love you guys! **

**-JustThatOneGirl1815**


	8. Chapter 7

**Que tal? *sighs* I wish I could actually type that right on my laptop. Anyways, Chapter 7. It feels like a cliche filler chapter to me but it's actually important but everything is so cliche and dramatic and ugghhhhhhh. Also, there's subtext that I want you guys to look for because it's beautiful and important and I wanna see who picks up on my very subtle hints of a future relationship with certain chracters. *cough* not Gwaine at all *cough*. If someone finds it soon I might give a shoutout to them or something because I truly love this future relationship that isn't one of the main ones I was writing this for. Anywho, enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

"Lancelot?" Blair and Gwaine exclaimed at the same time.

Lancelot nodded.

"Wait... you two... are _together?"_ He asked _._

Blair and Gwaine looked at each other and Blair quickly stepped away. Gwaine in turn, reached over and took Blair's hand in his.

Lancelot felt as if something inside him broke, and he had no idea what had caused that feeling.

He could tell that Blair was uncomfortable now. He was about to say something, but Gwaine began to talk before Lancelot could.

"Blair, how do you know Lancelot? And Lancelot, how are you alive?"

Silence. Blair and Lancelot both knew the answers but neither of them wanted to say it.

So, Lancelot leapt into the big explanation to save Blair the trouble. Once he'd finished, Gwaine looked as if everything that Lancelot had told him was insane. Gwaine looked to Blair for confirmation. Blair nodded, confirming Lancelot's story.

Lancelot still had trouble believing that Blair, of all people, had fallen in love with _Gwaine._

Lancelot thought back to his and Blair's conversation about Gwaine. She hadn't seemed in any way fond of him, in fact, Lancelot was certain that Blair had been more romantic talking to him than she'd been when she was talking about Gwaine. But there Blair was, tightly gripping Gwaine's hand as if he was her only anchor to this world.

No one was talking. No one was moving. This was starting to feel as awkward as after he'd almost kissed Blair.

"Blair, can I talk to you? Alone, preferably," Lancelot asked her.

Blair nodded, and Gwaine looked offended.

The pair released their grip on each other's hand as Blair walked away.

Blair and him walked far enough so they were definitely out of earshot of Gwaine.

"Why did you leave, Lancelot? Was it something I'd done, something I'd said? Where have you been? Why do you look so thin and sickly?" Blair asked him concerned, her voice raised.

"Blair..." Lancelot said, shaking his head, unable to get anything more out. He wanted to kiss her, or maybe yell at her. He wasn't entirely sure.

Lancelot didn't know how he felt about Blair now. That night, he'd left because he'd thought Blair was meeting with Morgana when actually, Blair going on a date with Gwaine. He'd overreacted, _big time._ He didn't know what to say. He wanted to apologize to her, but he also wanted to blame his leaving on Blair since she could've just told him what she was really doing that night.

Lancelot looked into her beautiful mismatched eyes, and searched for a way to tell her everything he was feeling. He felt tears form in his eyes as he thought about everything that had transpired recently. Lancelot hadn't realized how much he'd missed Blair.

Lancelot didn't want to seem weak, but Blair had seen him mostly dead, had spent weeks healing him, had seen him fall out of a chair in laughter, and had already seen him tear up before, so did it really matter?

He let his tears roll down his face. He saw Blair go from a strong, angry state to soft and sympathetic state. Lancelot felt Blair's soft hand wipe away his tears. Lancelot leaned a bit against her, and her heard her soft voice whisper. "What's wrong, Lancelot? What happened to you?"

Lancelot rested his forehead on hers and spilled everything. He told her why he left, where he went, how he got captured, and the mental and physical torture the fights put him through. He was once again caught up in the feeling of security he got when Blair touched him. Once again, Lancelot felt like they were destined to be at each other's sides.

And, of course, Lancelot didn't think when he put his hands on Blair's hips and kissed her forehead. And Blair didn't seem to think of it, all Lancelot could see was her perfect face relax.

"What the hell? I thought you two were just going to _talk,"_ Gwaine said loudly, putting air quotes around the word talk.

Blair quickly backed away from Lancelot and Lancelot could feel his face flush red.

"Gwaine," Lancelot started, trying to explain what had just happened.

"Lancelot, shut up!" Gwaine yelled at him.

"How about you shut up, Gwaine! You're always running your big, arrogant mouth!" Lancelot yelled back at Gwaine. For some reason he felt the need to take all of his emotions and everything that had happened to him in his life out on Gwaine.

Gwaine scoffed. "Well, you... always seem to fall in love with a _taken_ woman!"

"I am not in love with Blair, you clotpole!"

"Really, cause it sure as hell looks like it!" Gwaine yelled.

"Gwaine! Lancelot!" Blair intervened.

"Stay out of this, Blair!" Gwaine and Lancelot both yelled at Blair.

Lancelot saw Blair's face turn hard and it seemed as if her eyes had suddenly become soulless.

In the split second Lancelot had been distracted by Blair, Gwaine flew at him.

Lancelot found himself on the ground, Gwaine on top of him, throwing punches at Lancelot's face.

" **Flíeh on nu moras!"**

Lancelot soon found himself floating in the air with Gwaine stuck in the same position as him a few feet away. Blair was staring at them angrily.

"What is wrong with you two? Gwaine, I have no feelings for Lancelot, I was just giving him someone to lean on, he's had a hard time. And Lancelot, I'm glad you're back, but Gwaine is not a clotpole," Blair said, her voice as cold as stone.

"Blair, I'm starting to wonder where your loyalties lie. To me or to Lancelot?" Gwaine asked her.

Blair looked taken aback. "Gwaine, what happened to you?" Her voice suddenly grew soft and lax. "The second Lancelot showed up you changed. Whatever happened to loving me far too much to ever think foully of me? What happened to the Gwaine I came back here for every other night, just so I could see his smile?" Lancelot noticed tears form in her eyes.

Gwaine opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by a loud coughing fit.

It was Allard.

"Blair let me down." Lancelot said urgently.

By 'let me down', Lancelot had meant _gently,_ instead he found himself falling for a split second, and then landing on the forest floor in a big heap of Lancelot.

He got up quickly and ran to where Allard was coughing up water on the river bank.

He put his arm behind Allard's back and lifted him up, so Allard wouldn't be choking as much. Allard was fine, now. Well, other than the fact that the young man was soaked in the cold water from the river, causing him to shiver violently.

Lancelot heard the rush of feet pounding against the ground behind him, but decided that his predicament with Blair and Gwaine was less important than Allard's life, so he ignored them.

"Allard," Lancelot whispered to the young man.

"Lancelot? What happened? You slipped and then I slipped and I hit my head..." Allard's sentence faded out as he saw Blair and Gwaine. The face Allard made when he saw Blair made it seem as if he'd just seen the most beautiful dame in the entire world– which, of course, Lancelot couldn't blame him because Blair _was_ beautiful.

Gwaine noticed Allard staring and instantly took Blair's hand in his. Another pang hit Lancelot's heart. Once again he wondered why he felt this way. Sure, Blair was pretty and sweet but also dangerous and witty and she had magic and was so kind to everyone. She'd saved him from death and healed him and taken care of him but that meant nothing to him, right? Gaius and Merlin had healed him all the time when he lived in Camelot. And Morgana was (at one point) pretty and sweet. And Arthur was dangerous and witty. He didn't have feelings for any of them, so why did Gwaine and Blair's love hit him as hard as a battering ram?

He snapped out of his cavernous thoughts and focused his attention on the once again coughing Allard. Then, Lancelot noticed the scrapes, cuts, and bruises along the young man's body. As Allard continued to sputter up smidgens of river water, Lancelot looked to Blair.

"He needs warmth... and your healing magic." Lancelot told her.

Blair gave no response, or an indication that she'd heard him of any kind.

"Blair! I said he needs warmth, a fire. He needs herbs or healing magic, something."

Blair looked at him, her face blank and inexpressive.

"Blair, please. Can't you see how young he is? He could die if he doesn't get treated to. Those wounds and his chills need treatment and Blair, your healing magic is incomparable to any other I've seen, and I should know, you healed me." Lancelot was practically begging her at this point.

His begging caught her, though. She stepped forward and leaned down to Allard's shivering form.

"Lancelot, I'm supposed to be mad at you. You just called Gwaine both arrogant and a clotpole. I'm only helping because he's young and currently ill," Blair scolded him.

" **Forbearnan** ," Blair enchanted. A small fire formed next to them. Out of the corner of his eye, Lancelot saw Gwaine shift his weight.

Then, Blair took off the shawl she was wearing and put it around Allard's shoulders. It was an expensive looking wolf fur shawl that was obviously way too expensive for Blair to afford. Lancelot realized she probably had gotten it from Gwaine as a gift. Another pang hit him deep in the chest. Gwaine was a Knight in Arthur's court, and good friends with both Queen Guinevere and Merlin, so of course he'd be able to get something as expensive and luxurious as the shawl now around Allard's shoulders. For some reason, Lancelot felt the need to give Blair something as elegant and expensive as the shawl.

Lancelot watched intently as Blair benevolently took care of Allard, a man she didn't even know, as if he was the most important person in the world to her. As Lancelot observed, he imagined how she had taken care of him, probably with the same gentleness and diligence as she did currently with Allard. The thought made him warm and fuzzy inside, and a small smile spread across his face.

Soon, Allard was alert and no longer bleeding, shivering, or coughing. Blair had worked her magic well.

Lancelot released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The young man had become special to him, even though he'd only ever seen him once, other than during their escape. They'd both been through the fight club, which had created a bond like the one the Knights of Camelot get through the ebbs and flows of battle. Lancelot knew already that he would risk, or give, his life to protect Allard just so the boy could live to see another day. Lancelot's smile grew as he realized that this was the kind of friendship Merlin and he had had, and the one Arthur and Merlin have. The one that was built on hard times and trust.

Lancelot arose from his squatting position on the ground and turned to Blair, who had apparently stood back up in the time he had been lost in his thoughts, and embraced her tightly in his arms. "Thank you," Lancelot whispered.

He let her go and knelt back down to Allard's level, and held out his hand. Allard took it and they stood up together.

They were all standing now. Allard, despite being healed, was still wobbly on his feet. Blair was looking flushed, and Lancelot realized that her expression was probably from his hug, which he hadn't thought about. Lancelot was happy, giddy even. Blair was here, and Allard was okay, and he didn't feel like every moment was a fight for his life like it had been in the arena. And then there was Gwaine. The usually erratic and laid-back Knight was now looking tense and... jealous. Jealous was the only way to describe his face and posture. Gwaine stood with his arms folded and his face stern. His eyes portrayed that he wanted to kill someone and then drink a whole jug of ale. He was the only one of them that wasn't smiling; which was unusual since Gwaine was typically the _only_ one smiling.

"Gwaine? What's wrong?" Blair asked, her voice sympathetic.

"Blair... I'm trying. To get to terms with you having magic, but it's hard. We've been meeting every other night for three weeks now and you've hardly ever told me about your life. Then, Lancelot and whoever this is, came sprawling down the river, you suddenly have magic and not only know Lancelot, but you two are obviously more than friends. So I'm having some difficulties, thanks for noticing." Gwaine spewed.

Lancelot didn't know what to say, so he said the first thing that came to mind.

"His name is Allard."

Then he realized that he felt the need to say much more. Lancelot has missed his fellow Knights. Without thinking, he surged forward and hugged Gwaine quickly, then gave him a rough pat on the back. "Gwaine, I didn't get to say this earlier, but I'm sure as hell glad to see you again."

Gwaine looked surprised by this response, and just gave Lancelot a courteous nod followed by some mumbled words of agreement.

Lancelot noticed that Blair still hadn't said anything.

"Who are you?" Allard asked, his question clearly not directed to Blair, but to Gwaine.

"Gwaine. _Sir_ Gwaine to you, Allard." Gwaine replied, his voice serious but light; more like the Gwaine Lancelot remembered.

Allard smiled and... wait was Allard blushing?

 _It must be a trick of the light, there's no reason for Allard to blush,_ Lancelot thought.

They all stood there for a while. Everything was awkward and feeling kind of forced, even though no one had forced them to do anything. Gwaine, who was not holding Blair's hand, or showing any affection whatsoever, kept glancing at Blair, as if he wanted to talk to her. Allard, for some strange reason, was mostly looking straight at Gwaine and every once in awhile looked at Blair or Lancelot. And Blair and Lancelot were left just glancing around, not sure if they should start a conversation, sit down, or just leave.

Then Gwaine broke the silence. "I have to go, it'll be dawn soon and some Knight was borrowing my horse since theirs was sick as a dog, and now I'm stuck with a horse that is slower than a turtle, so it will take _forever_ to get back to Camelot. Lancelot, I assume you want to come with me, and reinstate your position as a Knight." Gwaine said, babbling on and on as usual.

Blair smiled. "It's best you get on then. Lancelot, _will_ you be returning to Camelot?"

Blair asked a good question. _Was_ Lancelot going to return to Camelot? He'd made this choice once before, when he'd last been with Blair, but now with Gwaine here... Lancelot wasn't so sure anymore. He'd screwed everything up last time he'd been there, but that had apparently been resolved, since Arthur and Gwen were married now. But would Arthur let him return? As far as Lancelot knew, Arthur didn't know that magic was involved with him coming back to life the first time and Gwen falling back in love with him. Lancelot winced, remembering Arthur's screams of anger when he caught them, their fight, hearing Gwen's muffled sobs from cells away, and being able to hear Arthur's short yelling spree coming from the floors above him, knowing that all of it was his fault. Arthur must hate him now. There was no way Arthur would let him stay at Camelot, so he wouldn't be returning with Gwaine.

Lancelot shook his head. "Gwaine, I'd love to return to Camelot with you, to see my friends again. But last time, even if it wasn't truly me controlling my body and my mind, I screwed things up. Arthur may be forgiving, and he may be a friend, but he may not welcome me back. If I return again, I may bring everything Arthur and Gwen have built right back down to rubble, so I can't come with you."

Gwaine stepped forward as if to protest. "Lancelot, you said it yourself, Arthur is forgiving, he'll let you return."

Lancelot shook his head. "I cannot return. I desperately want to, Gwaine, but the risk is too high. It's best if I stay away from Gwen, and from Camelot."

Gwaine looked crestfallen, but he nodded in understanding. "Of course, I see. I will miss you my friend, and I am sorry for yelling at you and attacking you– though you did deserve it."

Lancelot let out a light laugh. As he looked around at the three people surrounding him, he let everything sink in. Gwaine was probably the person here he trusted the most, since they had once been Knights of Camelot together. Blair had saved his life, twice now, but he truly didn't know whether to trust her or not. Allard was Allard. He needed protection, and the best person to do that was... Gwaine.

Lancelot turned to Allard. "Allard, you could go back to Camelot with Gwaine. I'm sure that he would take care of you, or at least get someone to take care of you." Lancelot shot a pointed look to Gwaine.

Gwaine sighed, "I'd love to have such a fine young man at my side, there's only one thing you have to tell me, Allard: do you like apple pie?"

The smacking sound of a facepalm came from Blair's direction. Allard looked confused, and Lancelot was holding back laughter.

"Apple pie? What is that? Do you mean 'apples'?" Allard questioned.

Gwaine's face was priceless. It shown pure shock and horror, and his right hand had come up to his chest, showing that he was offended by Allard not knowing what apple pie was.

"Well that settles it. You're coming with me, and I will convert you to the ways of the apple pie."

"What's an apple pie?" Allard asked loudly, as Gwaine grabbed him by the arm and began to playfully drag him away.

Lancelot chuckled. He looked to Blair.

What he saw was not what he was used to. Blair looked as if Gwaine had took part of her soul with him. Her face bestowed a frown and Lancelot was worried, had he ruined her and Gwaine's relationship?

"Goodbye Allard! Goodbye Gwaine!" Lancelot called after them when he realized they were already about to mount Gwaine's stallion.

Gwaine stopped dragging Allard and waved farewell to Lancelot. Allard stumbled to his feet and did the same.

Lancelot saw Blair walk forward towards Gwaine.

"Goodbye Gwaine," Blair said, and she leaned in to give him a kiss.

Gwaine leaned away from her attempted kiss. Blair looked surprised.

"Blair, I don't think you understood what I meant earlier. I don't care that you have magic, but you kept it from me. Relationships, they're built on loyalty and honor. Trust most of all. You broke that bond of trust we had by keeping your magic a secret. Blair, what I'm trying to say is that I can't be with you anymore. I know I said that I loved you far too much to ever think foully of you, but I've seen that I was wrong. I'm sorry."

Blair didn't look hurt, in fact she looked like she'd been expecting this. The exact opposite from how she'd looked only moments ago. She nodded and spoke.

"I'm sorry too. We'll see each other soon, I'm sure."

Gwaine smiled his ridiculous smile, and mounted his horse, pulling Allard up behind him. Lancelot watched as the two rode off towards Camelot, leaving him and Blair there in the forest by the river.

Lancelot turned to Blair. "What now?"

"I guess we go home," Blair replied.

 _Home._ Blair meant _her_ home, but the way she used it suggested that she meant for it to be his home too. Lancelot realized that he hadn't had a real home in a long time. The thought of calling Blair's little house in the woods home made his insides all warm and fuzzy. He smiled and nodded. They mounted Blair's horse and rode off.

* * *

 **Oh snap. Breakup. To be honest, I just had to end their relationship because reasons. I'm not sure if I got Gwaine's character quite right because well... to end a relationship, Gwaine seems the type to cheat instead of try to let the girl down easy but obviously _that_ wasn't gonna work in this situation. So, what'd you guys think? Did you think it was as cliche as I thought it was because let's be honest here... it was super cliche? Did any of you figure out what I was talking about with the subtle subtext? I'm warning you, it's really subtle and I played it off as something else because, in reality, Lancey isn't the smartest Knight out there when it comes to other people's relationships. (I'm almost done here) And lastly, because I feel the need to warn you... the next chapter is full of issues and poor Allard who can't seem to catch a break. Alright, I'm done. **

**Love,**

 **\- JustThatOneGirl1815**


	9. Chapter 8

Days, weeks, and eventually months passed by. Blair and Lancelot became close, but never exceeded the level of friendship in their relationship. In the heart of Camelot, Gwaine took good care of the young Allard, and was even training him to become a knight. The two were also friends. A great period of friendship, truth, and happiness arose after Blair and Gwaine's falling out, but secrets were still alive between the four.

As Blair went to the well to gather water for her and Lancelot's dinner that night, she was lost within her deep thoughts.

Blair was torn. She didn't know whether to tell Lancelot that, while she still had feelings for Gwaine, she liked him. Not in the oh my god, you're so hot and I would literally die if you don't date me right now kind of sense. No, Blair was a practical person, she knew that. She just liked him. She could watch him hunt all day, and would be absolutely fine if he gave her the charming smile of his everyday. She could listen to his beautiful laugh all day long, and she could get lost in his soulful brown eyes for eternity. She wouldn't care if he picked her up in his muscular arms or took her hand and asked to dance. Blair certainly wouldn't mind in he would take her in his arms and pull her close to him, kissing her lips until they forgot what it was like to do anything else. Blair knew, or at least assumed, that Lancelot didn't share the same feelings as her. He obviously didn't. Lancelot regarded her as if she was just his friend, and they were of course, but he showed no affection, no love. This was why Blair wasn't going to tell him how she felt. If she did it would just make things to awkward and weird like that first day Lancelot had been there. She didn't want that. Blair refused to ruin the friendship that she shared with Lancelot. It was too beautiful to ruin.

She reached the well and tied the bucket to a rope and threw the bucket down. She heard the splash, waited five seconds, and then began to reel the heavy bucket back to the top.

The sloshing bucket reached her and Blair set it down on the ground so she could untie the rope.

As she untied, the bushes around her rustled and a twig snapped. Blair immediately stood straight and looked around. Nothing. Hmm, Blair could've sworn something or someone was there.

She bent back down and finished untying the rope. Blair grabbed the bucket and stood back up. She only caught one small glance of a short, young man with black hair before heavy cloth went around her head and a armor covered foot slammed into her foot. Blair screamed in pain and in response an armor covered hand hit her head. Blair dropped the bucket, making a large crash as the metal struck the ground and the liquid contents spilled everywhere, even soaking her feet. Blair's vision went dark and her knees buckled. The last thing Blair heard was the nickers of a horse and the young man whisper, "I'm sorry, I only did this to keep my world safe."

Gwaine smiled and nodded as he watched Allard. The young man was learning how to properly joust– and win– and he was doing great. Every knight in Camelot was jealous that Gwaine had gotten Allard as his squire. And all the squires were jealous of Allard. Allard was exceptional at pretty much everything, but the young man was phenomenal at sword fighting. Even Arthur and him had difficulty beating Allard with a sword. The only thing Allard wasn't incredibly good at was the nunchucks, which, if Gwaine was being honest, Allard was as handy at those as Merlin and cooking, which is to say not bad at all. Gwaine knew Allard was going to be knighted sooner than the other squires because of his excellency.

Gwaine had to admit, he didn't want Allard knighted. Allard was still young, younger than all the other squires, and being a Knight would mean that the young man wouldn't be under his protection. Gwaine didn't know what he would do if Allard got hurt. Allard was like family. Allard may not be a knight yet, but Gwaine was as close to him as he was to his fellow knights like Percival and Leon.

Gwaine watched proudly as Allard and his horse, a beautiful black Percheron, charged the opposing squire and knocked the squire from his mount.

Gwaine, the onlookers of the practice, some other knights and squires plus a few commoners, all cheered for Allard.

Allard dismounted and came to consult Gwaine, leaving his Percheron, Thunder, to the stable hand.

"Did I do well?" Allard asked.

Gwaine shrugged. "I've seen Merlin do better."

At the squire's dismayed face, Gwaine laughed at his own joke and added on, "I'm kidding! Allard, I've never seen better in a squire as young as you! You will become the pride of Camelot!"

Allard laughed a little, but Gwaine could tell that the young man was still taking his joke a bit to literally.

"Come, Allard! Let's go practice with the sword and ma–" Gwaine's sentence was cut off by multiple screams and the loud burst of flames.

All the Knights nearby were immediately at attention, ready to handle whatever problems they were currently about to face, Gwaine and Allard included.

Gwaine's senses sharpened and adrenaline rushed through his body as he stared wide-eyed at the tall flames that engulfed a small section of the lower town.

Fighting armies was one thing, but fire. Fire was a whole other monster.

To his left he saw squires running towards the fire with pails of water. To his right he saw commoners fleeing to the safety of the citadel as the fires in the lower town grew larger, sweeping up houses as they went.

The smell of smoke rippled through the air and the ting of water quenching fire echoed off the citadel walls. And Gwaine wasn't sure, but every few minutes, over the shouts of men and screams of children, he heard a high pitched screech– almost like an eagle.

Gwaine leapt into action, grabbing Allard's wrist and dragging him along as they ran to the citadel.

Once inside, Gwaine took a bucket full of water that the castle servants were handing out and ran back towards the fire.

He heard the light footfalls of Allard behind him as he headed towards a small house that was catching aflame.

Him, Allard, and a few other knights and squires drenched the small house with water before returning to get more water and do the process all over again.

The seventh time Gwaine had brought water to a section of the fire, he saw something. Hidden deep in the flames was a bird. Not any bird. No, this bird was huge, maybe larger than a bear, with wings that blended in with the fire, as if they were made of fire. It's legs were covered with scales of an enticing yellow-gold and had talons that looked like the rose-gold of a sunset. The only part of the creature that didn't convey a fiery heat was its eyes, which shimmered the blue of a pure sapphire. In other words, the creature was beautiful.

Gwaine just stood there, staring at the majestical animal as it flew around above.

The creature was clearly the reason behind the fire, but Gwaine was so awed by it's beauty that he didn't even think to pull out his sword– or even better, a crossbow– to kill the beast.

He was so mesmerized by the creature's grace that he did nothing as the beast swooped down through the air, extending its claws in a straight path for Gwaine's heart.

"GWAINE!" He heard Allard yell from his left, but he was still to shell-shocked to move out of the way as the creature came to give him the finishing blow.

As the mythical creature sliced through the air, Gwaine heard a desperate shout and his life flashed before his eyes as a figure moved between him and the oncoming bird.

Lancelot was getting worried. Blair had only gone out to get water from the well and it was taking way longer than it was supposed to. Usually getting the water only took ten minutes, but it had been twenty-five.

Lancelot began to pace around the small house.

He soon gave up on waiting. Lancelot grabbed his sword from the table and went to find Blair.

As he walked, he thought about what could've happened to her. Lancelot could only assume the worst: Blair was dead. The forest was silent and the sweet, magical smell that usually accompanied Blair wherever she went was gone. There were no footprints to show that she had returned to the house, only that she had gone to the well and apparently never left.

Lancelot walked, his mind filled with worries, until he got to the well. There he saw... something. The bucket used for getting small amounts of water was laying sideways on the ground, and water was spilled everywhere. There were multiple footprints and impressions in the ground where the water had spilled and created mud. It was all so confusing that Lancelot couldn't decipher anything from it. All that he could get from it was that Blair had been kidnapped and taken west, judging from the drag marks that led west. They suggested that someone had knocked Blair out, causing her to drop the bucket, and dragged Blair away.

Lancelot took a deep breath and thought about what he should do next. It didn't take long for him to decide that he had to go save Blair.

Blair didn't know it, but she was the love of his life. Lancelot had once thought Guinevere was to fill that position, but Gwen was with Arthur, they were happy, and he was without the woman he thought was his true love. Now, after spending the past few months with Blair, he was finally realizing that Blair was the one who was meant to fill that spot in his life. He hadn't even kissed Blair yet, or taken her out on a date, heck, he hadn't even made a small advance on her. His fear was keeping him back from telling her. Every time he opened his mouth to tell Blair that he loved her, the same question popped up in his mind: What if she doesn't feel the same way? And every time that question kept him from telling her the truth.

So Lancelot went back to the house. Back to get the materials he would need to save Blair.

He began packing. He stuffed a bag with whatever he would need for his rescue mission.

He got to Blair's mount and was about to ride west until he heard a cry coming from the river.

"BLAIR! HELP!"

Allard watched as the giant bird dove towards Gwaine. It was as if he was another world away, too far to help Gwaine. The creature, which looked like a Phoenix, a fiery bird from the mythical stories his mother had told him as a kid, was on a death mission: to kill as many people from Camelot as it could. Gwaine was its current target.

All Allard could do was yell. Yell the name of his mentor, his... no, don't think about him that way. That's what got you kicked out of the house.

"GWAINE," he shouted. He shouted with everything in his soul as the Phoenix closed in on Gwaine. Allard hoped that Gwaine would have the common sense to move out of the way. But, Gwaine didn't seem to have even heard Allard's cry.

Allard saw no other option. With a desperate cry, he threw himself between Gwaine and the Phoenix, taking the hit from the powerful bird.

He felt the beast's claws pierce his armor, and slice straight into his skin. A burning sensation ran throughout his entire body and he was instantly racked with pain. His vision went dark and his body numb. All he could do was hear the crackles of the fires surrounding him and a strangled gasp from Gwaine.

Allard heard the sound of a body slumping next to him, and he was afraid that the Phoenix had still managed to hit Gwaine. The sounds of wing flaps in the distance alerted him that the Phoenix had flown away, but still he worried. His worry ended, however, when he felt Gwaine's soft but electric touch on his shoulder.

Allard tried desperately to open his eyes, to see Gwaine's face. It took what felt like forever, but eventually he managed to see a blurry image of Gwaine's handsome face. The man was... crying. Why would Gwaine be crying, he didn't care about him, did he?

"Allard... are you okay," Gwaine asked.

Allard wasn't sure actually... he felt numb. The only thing he could feel was Gwaine's warm hand on his shoulder.

He looked down at his body, and all he saw was red. Liquid red. What was the wet, red stuff all over him?

It took Allard a moment to figure it out, but it was blood. He was covered in blood. His blood.

He became more fuzzy and lightheaded than he already had been.

Even in his mostly dead mind, Allard knew that looking at his own bleeding, wounded body wasn't helping him any. Instead he looked to Gwaine.

Except Gwaine wasn't there. Well he was, but Allard was losing his vision again.

He heard Gwaine call for Gaius or Merlin, but Allard knew that it would take some time to find either of them, and by then he'd be dead.

He knew that before he died he had to tell Gwaine the truth.

"Gwaine..." he said weakly.

"Shh, don't talk, reserve your strength, Allard," Gwaine soothingly whispered.

"No, I have to... I..."

But before he could finish, before he could say the other two words, he blacked out completely and the last thing he heard was Merlin's rushed footsteps coming towards him.

Allard was confused when he found himself in Gaius's chambers, with Merlin nearby talking to Gaius.

"I can't heal him, Gaius. My magic isn't strong enough for that. All of the healing spells I've tried have only gotten us this far and he's barely alive as it is." Merlin's voice said.

Wait... magic? Allard must have been hallucinating, Merlin didn't have magic.

"You have to try, Merlin. Try harder. I know you can do it. Just believe in yourself." Gaius said.

"That's what I'm telling you, Gaius. I am believing in myself, and I've never tried harder to keep a man alive, but with Allard's wounds... I don't think it's possible."

"Well Merlin, there's no one else with magic powerful enough to save him except you, so unless you happen to know a sorcerer nearby that's willing to help, I doubt you have much of a choice."

Allard heard Merlin gasp.

Oh no, what is Merlin going to do with me now?

"We have to get her to Blair," Merlin said.

"Who?" Gaius asked.

"She's a sorceress, powerful too. She can hid an entire house with her magic. If she can do that, she can heal Allard. Gaius, get Allard ready for travel. I'm getting Gwaine, we'll need a knight that we can trust with Blair's secret."

Allard heard Gaius grunt, which he assumed was a yes. Allard tried to think, but everything was jumbled in his head. Who was Blair? She was a sorceress obviously, but Allard felt like he knew her.

Soon, Allard fell back into unconsciousness.

When he next woke up, he was in the forest and rushing water was somewhere nearby. This time he could see, unlike the last time when his vision had still been black and he'd only been able to hear the conversation going on nearby.

He was being carried. Which felt very weird. Gwaine was the one holding him.

Oh dear... Allard realized what he was just thinking and shut it it out.

Merlin was also there but Gaius was not.

Then Merlin began talking.

"I wish Gaius had been able to come. He would know what to do with Allard. I feel like I'm doing something wrong. Gwaine, can you please check on him?"

He saw Gwaine look down at him and gasp.

"He's awake!"

He heard Merlin rush over and felt Gwaine set him down on the ground.

Ow... the ground was hard.

Allard tried to take a deep breath to ease the pain, but that didn't help. He let out a small whimper.

He saw Merlin grimace at his cry.

"Gwaine... we need to find Blair, fast. He may be awake now but that's definitely a temporary thing. How much further?"

"We are here... technically. I don't know where she actually lives, this is where we used to meet. Aren't you the one who actually saw her house?"

"I did but that was before the drought had ended. Also, it was so long ago and it was so brief. I recognize the area we are in though, so you definitely have that right."

Allard began to fade out again. His vision went black once again and the only thing he could do was listen as Gwaine flipped out, shaking him and yelling his name and Merlin tried to calm the knight down.

This went on for several minutes, as neither of the men seemed to know what to do with him.

Allard never thought he'd ever think this, but he was ready to die. He wasn't afraid either. All of this drifting in and out of consciousness, sometimes being able to see and other times not, and, of course, the pain, he was getting tired of it. He just wanted to quit this. Death by Phoenix was okay with him.

But, unfortunately Death by Phoenix was not okay with Gwaine and Merlin.

Right before he lost his hearing and fell unconscious completely, he heard Gwaine shout.

"BLAIR! HELP!"

 **I'd like to thank the person who commented on the last chapter saying how much they loved this story because I actually wasn't planning on posting these next few chapters. Also, I'm sorry about how painful this chapter is... haha not really.**

 **Love, JustThatOneGirl1815**


	10. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Lancelot thought. He thought, and he thought some more. Chase after the woman he loved, the woman who meant the world to him, the woman he couldn't lose, even if he would never have her love, or go to the origin of the shout to help. He considered each possible outcome of each option and still had no idea what to do. He didn't decide until he realized that the voice that had shouted had been from Gwaine. Gwaine was back and needed Blair's help. But Blair wasn't here. And she wouldn't be until Lancelot rescued her, but maybe he could still help.

He nudged Blair's horse forward, and took off towards the river.

Lancelot didn't know what he was expecting, but this was not it. First thing, Lancelot had always thought Gwaine could never be distraught. He figured that the Knight would always be making jokes to lighten the mood. But for the first time, Lancelot saw a worried, puffy eyed man leaning over a small, bloody body. Second thing, Merlin. Merlin was there. Of all the people Gwaine could have brought here, it had to be Merlin. Merlin had saved him from Morgana and set him on a path to a peaceful afterlife. It would crush Merlin to know that Morgana had tortured him. Third, Lancelot recognized that small figure that Gwaine was leaning over. He inhaled sharply. It was Allard. Lancelot suddenly forgot about Merlin's presence. He leaped off the horse and ran to Allard's side.

Instantly he saw the severity of the situation. Lancelot didn't know what in the world Allard had done, but he knew that he needed help.

Thinking fast, he ran to the saddle bag Blair kept with her tack. He knew that Blair always had bandages and healing herbs, though Lancelot had no idea how to use them.

He unwrapped the previous bandages on Allard's wounds, now seeing the true wounds and not just the blood. He rewrapped the wounds, but his hands were shaking. He felt adrenaline coursing though his veins. Allard couldn't die.

Lancelot took the herbs and crushed them into a frothy paste.

He flashed back to the river months ago when Allard had been wounded. Blair hadn't even enchanted anything to heal Allard. If she had, it'd had been silently, which didn't help Lancelot. He went back further into his memories, to the fuzzy part of his recovery from Morgana's torture. The memories had been slowly coming back to him over the months, as time went on and Blair told him more and more of how she healed him. Blair had tried to teach him some basic healing magic, so if he found himself in a situation without her, he'd be able to do something, but Lancelot had been horrible with magic and Blair had soon given up.

Still, he remembered the spell and how to perform it, even though he'd never succeeded at pulling off the spell. The spell was basic, easy to pull of once you get a hang of it (or at least that's what Blair said). Lancelot wasn't going to try anything too difficult, even though he remembered Blair reciting a difficult healing spell at one point to save a severely injured fawn, and could also recite it if he could perform magic in the first place.

Lancelot placed his hands centimeters above Allard's body and took a deep breath. Blair had always said that the calmer you are, the better the magic. Blair had once told him to think of a calming moment in his life. A centering point. She said to focus on that and hone the magic.

Lancelot closed his eyes and raced through his memories, attempting to find something as his center. His time at Camelot? No. How about his second death, knowing that he would be safe? Nope. That awkward almost-kiss between him and Blair? Haha, no. Then he found it. Blair. Everyday he would look into the blue depths of her mismatched eyes and feel the warmth that Blair radiated with her smile. Every morning, Lancelot would wake up to find Blair already cooking breakfast for them. And in the evening, he would return with that day's catch and Blair would prepare it, making the meat smell and taste delicious with her herbs. And then past dark, on the rare occasions when Blair lit multiple candles and they played cards. His center, his calming point, was when he was with Blair.

He opened his eyes and recited the spell.

"Ge hailige," he said.

Nothing.

He tried again, this time forcing all of his memories of his time with Blair into it. This time, he added something else. His love. Blair was the love of his life, and everyday Lancelot wanted to tell her, he wanted to kiss her and hold her tight in his arms. If anything he wanted her back. Blair should be the one doing this magic, not him, and that knowledge, plus his pain of not knowing if she was okay of not, was killing him.

"Ge hailige!" He enchanted, his voice raised.

At first, nothing happened, and then a swirl of magic took the wounds and sealed them, though not well.

Lancelot let out a shaky breath and slumped over, feeling the effects of the spell.

It took a moment for Lancelot to raise his head, and when he did, Gwaine and Merlin were staring at him. Their reactions were expectable.

Gwaine had stared at him and said, "You too?!"

Merlin, on the other hand, stepped back and breathed his name. "Lancelot?" And of course that was followed with "You have magic?"

Lancelot didn't know how to respond. He didn't have magic really, he just remembered what Blair had taught him. Was that really considered magic?

Whatever it was considered, Lancelot decided to avoid the question altogether.

"Hi, Merlin. Now, what happened to Allard? Gwaine, I trusted you to keep him safe and now you bring me him mostly dead. I'm starting to wonder if Blair and I need to take care of him because clearly you are incapable of doing so, just like you were incapable of giving Blair the love she deserves."

Oops.

The words just kinda tumbled out, and the second they were out of Lancelot's mouth, he regretted them. Gwaine had tried, he really had, and Lancelot knew that, he was just so mad that Gwaine had left Blair like he did. Just, "Hey, I can't get my head around you having magic, so goodbye." That angered Lancelot to no end. Blair deserved better. And he could give her better. Lancelot was willing to give her everything, but of course he was too scared.

Lancelot watched with vague satisfaction that he knew he shouldn't have as Gwaine's mouth opened and closed multiple times but no sound came out.

Also, Merlin's face was pricelessly confused.

Lancelot fumbled for words. "Oh god, I am so sorry Gwaine, I didn't mean that, just forget I ever said anything please."

It took a few moments but Gwaine eventually responded. "Lancelot, you're right. I shouldn't have just left Blair like I did, and everyday I regret it. But Blair... she's a one chance kind of woman, and I'm afraid that I wasted my chance with her. But you... you can give her what she deserves because you're right, she deserves better than me. You can give her that."

And now it was Lancelot's turn to be absolutely speechless.

The only words he could form were, "Blair doesn't feel anything for me, Gwaine."

"Are you sure? Because when you left, that was the only time Blair has cried. I didn't know what she was crying about then, but when I saw the way you two stood together, when you were still dripping wet from almost drowning in the river, I knew. I knew the second I saw your hands on her hips and you kissing her forehead. Lancelot, I was there for most of that conversation because I didn't trust you to not... do something." He paused. His face growing soft. "I guess what I'm trying to say here is that Blair may have loved me, but she never cared for me the way she does for you."

Now Lancelot had no words at all. His mind kept running over what Gwaine had just said, trying to make sense of it.

Blair likes me? She cares for me? She cried when I left? What?

The thoughts crowded his head until he could no longer think straight. Luckily, Merlin saved him from the silence.

"Someone tell me what's going on because last I checked, Lancelot, you were dead. Oh and since when did you both love Blair?"

Lancelot knew how to answer that.

"Last I checked, Merlin, Morgana was trying to take over Camelot and brought me back to life for a second time so she could blame her failure on me."

He didn't mean to be so cross with his old friend, but apparently today was not his day for words.

"Oh, Lancelot I–" Merlin began to speak and apologize but Lancelot tuned him out. Right now, Merlin's fussing was the exact opposite of what he wanted to listen to. So instead he looked down at Allard, who was still not looking so good.

"Gwaine come on, we have to get him somewhere else." Lancelot said.

Gwaine nodded and Merlin looked like he was in the middle of saying something and Lancelot had interrupted, which was probably exactly what happened.

Lancelot, Gwaine, and Merlin all picked up Allard's limp form and put him over the horse's back. Lancelot climbed on the horse and bounded off towards the house while Gwaine and Merlin followed on foot.

 **Random intervention by the author: GUYS IM WATCHING DOCTOR WHO AND COLIN MORGAN JUST SHOWED UP WHAT**

When they reached Blair's house, Gwaine was confused, and with good reason. The cloaking spell was on the small house so as far a Gwaine knew, all that was there was a small field.

Lancelot approached the invisible house to recite the spell.

This was the one spell Blair had spent forever teaching him. It's powerful magic, to cloak a building, so it had taken Lancelot months to master, but Blair had insisted that he know how to unveil the house. As he approached he whispered the spell.

Blair had told him that the sound of spells should reflect what the spell is doing. For instance, when adding a camouflage spell, one should whisper since the spell is one that hides things and if you are hiding something, you probably don't want to be shouting the spell at the top of your lungs. If performing a healing spell, the sorcerer should have a clear and strong voice. That kind of voice increases the healing magic because you are giving some of your strength into that spell and the patient needs that strength. If reciting a type of musical spell the caster should have a musical tone. If casting a stunning spell the voice should be loud, powerful, and commanding. Each voice should fit the purpose of the spell. Blair had said that few sorcerers knew this, and that was why her magic was more powerful than most.

The house unveiled, which caused Gwaine's eyes to open wide in disbelief.

Lancelot chuckled.

Merlin, though, didn't seem all that surprised, which confused Lancelot.

Lancelot dismounted and half picked up, half dragged Allard off the mount and carried him over his shoulder into the house.

Lancelot was about to lay Allard down on the floor before he realized that the young man would need a pad of some sort.

"Merlin, can you get that rolled up rug over there? It's the one in the corner."

Merlin walked over and unrolled it.

"Um... Lancelot? Why is it covered in dried blood and green stuff?" Merlin asked.

"Merlin, do you really think that I endured Morgana's torture and came out with my life?" Lancelot replied crossly. Allard was starting to get heavy.

"Lancelot..." Merlin said, his voice suddenly worried and softer.

"Merlin..." Lancelot replied in the exact same tone. Yes, Lancelot had resorted to mocking Merlin now.

Merlin laid the rug down on the floor and Lancelot laid Allard down gently on it.

"Lancelot, where's Blair?" Gwaine asked, finally getting over the whole invisible house thing.

"Blair's not... here," Lancelot said hesitantly.

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked cautiously.

Lancelot didn't want to answer. He turned his vision to the wall instead.

The walls of Blair's house were amazing. She had jars of herbs on shelves along one wall. Each herb had a purpose. Some were for seasoning food, the others for magic. Each ceramic jar was labeled, and that was a good thing because Blair had a lot of jars. The terra-cotta jar painted with flowers had a label that said "rosemary". The jar with an intracite design painted on had a label that read "poppy seeds". Another with purple and blue swirls said "rabbits ear". Lancelot could easily spend hours just going through all of Blair's jars. The best part about the wall of jars was that all the patterns on the jars made one huge pattern on the wall. The pattern wasn't really a pattern though– it looked like one at first glance– until you realize that the strategically placed jars make a colorful map of Camelot and the surrounding area.

"Lancelot!"

Gwaine's shout snapped him away from the jars. He was surprised to turn and see not only Gwaine looking mad at him, but Merlin too.

Merlin never gets mad, Lancelot thought.

"What?" Lancelot replied, his tone going deep with worry.

"Where's Blair? You said that she's not here, what did you mean?" Gwaine said, his voice also sounding worried.

"Blair was... taken."

Somehow, the air in the room got colder and stiffer than it already had been.

"Lancelot, just give us a straight answer. What do you mean by taken?" Merlin asked.

"I mean taken as in some clotpole knocked her out and dragged her away," Lancelot said, his voice growing sour in anger. When he found Blair he was going to punch that guy in the face so hard that he'd be seeing double for weeks.

Lancelot never thought to expect Gwaine's reaction to Blair's current situation. Lancelot definitely should have thought about that. But he didn't, so he rocked up off his heels in surprise when Gwaine's face went hard and he yelled "WHAT!"

Merlin's face read that he was offended, but then again, Lancelot was horrible with reading emotions, that was more Blair's thing.

Then, Allard started convulsing, his body involuntary thrashing about on his makeshift bed.

For a moment, Lancelot stood there staring at Allard's convulsing form, frozen. He stood there until Merlin yelled at him.

"Lancelot! What do we do?"

"I don't know! Blair taught me some basic magic, just to get by, but this," he said violently, gesturing towards Allard. "I- I don't know..."

He took a deep breath and ran through everything Blair had taught him about healing. He remembered spells and herbs that stop bleeding, how to keep a man's heart beating, but spontaneous convulsions... wait. There was a brief lesson a while ago on how to stop these.

"Okay... get him away from the wall. Get him away from anything he can hit." He said, attempting to make his voice commanding.

Merlin and Gwaine nodded and moved to pick up Allard's shaking form.

"Be careful! If you hold him too tight, the muscule convulsions could cause him to dislocate something! Yeah... bring him here."

Gwaine and Merlin made sure to be careful with Allard and set him down on the floor where Lancelot had told them to.

Lancelot then rolled Allard onto his side and felt his breath to make sure Allard was still breathing. He was, but it was shallow.

Blair had said something about the causes of the convulsions. Poison was the main one, but Lancelot couldn't figure out how Allard could get poisoned. The other cause were... brain illness, electric shock, severe heart problems, head injury... oh.

"Gwaine, did Allard ever hit his head?"

"Yeah, why?" Gwaine said, his voice concerned.

"Head injury is a cause for seizures. How hard did he hit his head?" Lancelot responded.

"Oh, well pretty hard. When the bird hit him he fell backwards and his head hit a rock." Gwaine replied, his voice growing lower as he realized the severity of the situation.

Lancelot took a deep breath and tried to remember what herbs were best for seizures related to head injuries. Blue Vervian and False Pepper. Those were the herbs he needed to best treat Allard.

Lancelot ran to the herb jars and looked up and down for the jar labeled Blue Vervian. When he found the jar, there was only one leaf inside.

I guess Blue Vervian is rare, he thought.

He grabbed the leaf and then began his search for the jar labeled False Pepper.

Apparently, False Pepper is also rare. Inside a red and green jar, Lancelot found a few leaves and a small piece of bark.

He then grabbed the bowl with the last bit of water they had. He ripped the leaves apart, crushed the bark, and put the pieces into the water. Next, he turned to Merlin, who was leaning over Allard's now relatively calm form. Gwaine was standing a few feet away with his mouth and eyes wide open.

"Merlin, I need you to heat this water up for me. Also, what did you do?"

"I recited a sleeping incantation. I may be no good with healing, but I can make people sleep." Merlin said with a playful smile.

"You too! I give up. Everyone. Knows. Magic. Next thing I know, Arthur is going to grow wings and become a dragon. Where's my magic? I want magic too." Gwaine fumed, sounding absolutely done, but also playful.

Lancelot and Merlin chuckled at Gwaine's reaction. Lancelot figured that Merlin wasn't expecting this kind of reaction from Gwaine, but to be honest, Gwaine was exactly the kind of person to say something like that.

Lancelot acknowledged Merlin and soon the water became boiling hot at the sound of Merlin's spell.

"One last thing. Could you say this spell to enchant the water Þu fornimest adl fram guman? I learned the words, but I'm actually pretty terrible with spells and that healing magic drained me."

Merlin nodded in understandment and cast the spell. The boiling water erupted into purple smoke.

"Woah," he said at the same time as Gwaine. Blair had told him the spell to enchant herbs but she'd never told him that purple smoke erupted from concoction. Luckily, the smoke soon faded away and Lancelot found a creamy, violet liquid inside the bowl.

Cautiously, as to not spill any, he took the bowl and spooned a small amount into Allard's mouth.

Immediately, Allard's muscles relaxed and color returned to his face.

All the tension in the air faded away. Lancelot had saved Allard–well kinda, Lancelot still had no idea how to fix the giant holes in Allard's abdomen. Allard needed Blair's care.

Speaking of Blair, he thought, I still need to go save her. Only the fairies of Avalon know what happened to her.

"Merlin, Gwaine," he said, speaking to them both, "I'm leaving to go find Blair. Stay here, keep Allard safe and preferably alive, I'll be back as soon as I can."

Merlin nodded. Gwaine protested. Typical.

"I'm coming with you," Gwaine said.

Lancelot laughed and said "Gwaine, think for a second. Merlin may be capable of many incredible things, but he needs you to hunt and get water from the well because unless you have magical healing powers then I want to see you try and take care of Allard. Merlin can't do those things because he'll be to busy making sure Allard doesn't have another seizure. Okay? You take care of Merlin, Merlin takes care of Allard."

Gwaine clearly wanted to protest again, but he saw the reason behind what Lancelot had said. Gwaine nodded and sat down next to Allard.

Lancelot smiled and nodded to Merlin.

"Keep him alive, Merlin."

And with that, he went outside and mounted Blair's horse and rode off.

Three days passed and he was still following the old hoof prints from the kidnapper's mount. Lancelot knew he couldn't have been to far behind the kidnapper. He was almost getting hopeful that he would save Blair before anything to terrible could happen to her. He was hopeful until he saw the blood stains on the ground near the tracks. Hopeful until he heard the scream.

 **I like my cliffhangers okay? I know you guys probably hate them but they're just**

 **SO much fun to write. That little intervention about DW? Sorry about that, I wasn't even aware that it was there until I read over this chapter... I have no regrets actually because it gave me a reason to rewatch Doctor Who and I'm already on Season 5... what can I say? See ya around and once again, thx to the previously mentioned reader.**


	11. Chapter 10

Lancelot looked down at Blair. She was so fragile, so weak. The torture had been so evil to her.

Lancelot was carrying her frail form in his arms as he ran across the landscape that was covered in flames. Warriors ran behind him, screaming for his blood.

It hadn't taken him long to find where they were keeping Blair, all he had to do was follow the tracks left by their horses and follow the sound of Blair's horrifying screams. He'd found Blair with ease and got out of the crumbling castle with her. Blair hadn't been able to stand so he carried her out of the place. He'd gotten so close to Blair's horse, but then flaming arrows had struck the ground all around him. Knights in armor ran after him with their swords drawn.

Lancelot continued running. He ran until he reached Blair's horse, Challenger. His heart didn't stop racing until he was so far away from the castle where Blair had been kept that there was no way any of the Knights could be anywhere close to him and Blair.

Lancelot got off Challenger and then helped Blair, who was now fully conscious, down.

She looked so delicate. She was thin and bruises covered her body. Her eyes no longer had the warmth, the glow, that they used to have. Her hands weren't warm and soft anymore, but cold and injured. Her beautiful, soft hair was now a rat's nest on top of her head. Blair didn't seem like Blair anymore.

But his love still remained. He stepped close to her and pulled her against his chest. Blair seemed to melt right then and there. Tears streamed from her eyes and her fragile form shook. All Lancelot could do was hold her tight. Silently, he vowed to never let anything happen to her ever again. And the people that did this, they were going to die. Slowly. Painfully. They would regret everything they ever did to his Blair. He swore it upon his life.

He and Blair stood like that for sometime. Lancelot felt so helpless as Blair sobbed against his shoulder. All he could do was hold her. He wished desperately that he could do something more.

He slid his hands to Blair's shoulders and pushed her gently away from him. Blair's eyes were red and puffy and tears were still streaming down her face.

"Lancelot," Blair said weakly, her voice shaking.

Lancelot responded by leaning down and kissing Blair. Electricity crackled around them as his lips pressed passionately against hers.

The moment was amazing. Better than amazing, it was spectacular. Blair pulled away and looked at him.

"I love you," she said, her voice clearly showing that she meant every word. For a moment, there was happiness and hope in her eyes.

Then a spear went though her back.

Blair's scream echoed across the landscape as the girl fell to her knees.

Lancelot yelled out and dropped to his knees beside her.

"Blair," he sobbed. He cupped his hand on Blair's cheek and kissed her once more, even though it was useless, for Blair was already gone.

He held his arms out and his face towards the sky, inviting his death. An arrow pierced his skin and everything went black.

Lancelot woke up soaking wet and screaming. It was pouring around him and both him and Blair's horse, which was tied to a tree a few yards away, were soaking wet. The only difference between him and Challenger right now was that the horse hadn't just dreamed about Blair's death. Well that and the fact that Lancelot clearly wasn't a horse.

He quivered at the memory. Everything in that dream had seemed so real. Too real. Blair had told him about sorcerers gaining or having the ability to see the future, especially in dreams.

What if Blair is going to die like she did in my dream? What about me? Will I give my life for her?

Lancelot's body shook vigorously. He couldn't lose Blair.

It was just a dream, Lancelot told himself, Blair won't actually die, you won't let it. Now get back on Challenger and ride off to save your girl.

It was at least midnight and the forest was being drenched in water from the violent storm, but that didn't stop Lancelot from mounting Challenger and running off on her to save Blair. Nothing was going to stop him.

The entire ride, rain pelted his skin and doubt crossed his mind. Should he really be doing this alone? What if that was actually a prophecy of the future? What if Blair wasn't going to live through the journey back home?

Lancelot shook it off and rode on, blindly riding in the general direction he thought Blair's captors had taken her.

Hours passed and daybreak came. Along with the sun came a lack of rain. Now that Lancelot could see, he was relieved. Turns out his guts had been right, because on the horizon was the remains of a castle. Lancelot's breath began to shake and worry filled his mind. The castle was just like the one from his dream. It's just a coincidence, he told himself, but still, the castle looked to much like the one he'd broken Blair out of in his dream.

He nudged Challenger forward at a faster pace. The wind blew freshly through his hair and ruffled his clothes. The trees blurred in his peripheral vision as he and Blair's horse raced by. The worn down castle came closer and closer until he was practically standing at the front door.

He dismounted Challenger and sneaked around the outer walls of the castle, trying to find a good way in.

Luckily, the castle wasn't in the best condition, so finding a small crack in the wall that just so happened to lead straight into a large passageway wasn't hard at all.

He squeezed through the small gap in the wall and, after a bit of struggling, made his way into the cold, stone passageway.

As he stalked along the corridor he heard the echo of a soft, painful whimper. Immediately he knew that it was Blair.

He raced down the hall, his boots echoing of the stone floor. He didn't care how loud he was being, all he cared about was Blair.

Cells began to line the sides of the corridor. Most were empty but every once in a while he'd see a hunched over, bloody figure in the corner of a cell. He'd peek in and check for Blair's lean figure and blonde hair, only to find out that the figure wasn't her. He continued on like that until he found a cell that had soft whimpers coming from it. Inside, a bloody figure was curled up on the floor.

Lancelot put his hands on the bars and whispered to her.

"Blair?"

The figure moaned.

"Blair," he said, louder this time.

The figure lifted her head.

It was Blair.

"Lancelot?" She croaked.

"Blair;" he exclaimed, relieved.

He watched, feeling helpless, as Blair struggled to stand. She fell over multiple times but eventually managed to stand up.

When she was standing they looked at each other. Lancelot's breath caught in his throat. Her face showed how much pain she'd been in and her eyes were as warm as an icicle. How could this happen? It's only been two days since she was taken, what could they possibly had done to her to put her through this much pain? He watched Blair put her hand on the bars, her palm covering Lancelot's fingers. Hope seemed to fill her eyes at the sight of his face. Lancelot leaned forward, so that the skin on his face was only millimeters from the cold, hard bars.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concern unintentionally filling his voice.

Blair looked at him and nodded weakly.

"Can you walk?"

Blair hesitated.

"I– I don't know. Maybe," Blair said, her voice shaking.

"Okay..." he murmured, trying to figure out how this whole "escape" thing was going to work.

He looked at the lock on the cell. It was worn down and rusted. Lancelot smirked, getting Blair out wouldn't be as hard as he thought.

He looked to the crumbling wall of the castle. Taking a small, but solid, piece of the wall in his hand, he hit the lock hard. After a few more smashes, the lock fell uselessly to the ground.

He pulled the cell door open and let Blair fall into his arms. He held her tight, glad that he had her in his grasp.

She pulled away and whispered. "We need to get out of here."

Lancelot nodded and put his arm around Blair's shoulders so she could lean against him as they walked.

He was practically carrying her when they got out of the castle. Getting through the exit was difficult. They had to squeeze through one at a time, but Blair could hardly stand as it was. She made it though and Lancelot couldn't stop himself from looking at her adoringly.

He helped Blair onto Challenger and then climbed on himself. Right as they started to ride back home, he heard the shouts of angry men behind them. He pushed Challenger on as fast as she could go with two people on her back. As they ran away from the frenzy, all Lancelot could hope for as they rode was that the dream he had didn't come true.

They rode on all day and reached Blair's house by dusk. Lancelot climbed off and then had to carry Blair's unconscious form into the house.

Inside, were Gwaine, Merlin, and Allard, who was surprisingly awake. Under normal circumstances, Lancelot would have questioned how Allard was awake and how he felt, but these weren't normal circumstances.

He laid Blair down on the floor gently and gently ran the tips of his fingers along the side of her face before standing up.

He looked to Gwaine first, who was sitting on the floor next to Allard, his arm around Allard's back, allowing Allard to sit up.

He looked to Allard next. The young man looked absolutely terrible. His face was pale and beads of sweat ran down his temples. Despite the sweating, Allard was shivering. The gashes in his abdomen seemed to have healed up but Lancelot could tell by the pain written all over Allard's face that he was very far from okay.

Next, Lancelot's gaze moved to Merlin. Merlin was standing there, gazing forlornly at Blair's mangled form.

Lancelot was about to speak when Allard started coughing violently.

Lancelot didn't know what to do. His thought process was slow from the lack of sleep. But Gwaine knew what to do.

Gwaine started to gently comfort the man, giving him a sip of water and gently patting him on the back, waiting for the coughing fit to end.

And it did end. And Lancelot couldn't help but notice that Gwaine's hand was on Allard's bare, trembling chest.

"Lancelot?" Allard asked, his voice trembling as much as his body.

Lancelot nodded and knelt down in front of Allard.

Allard just now seemed to be realizing that Blair was here. Lancelot watched as Allard turned his head, and a look of recognition passed over his face.

"Is that... the woman– from the river... what was her name?"

"Blair," Lancelot said softly.

Blair groaned and began to slowly sit up. Lancelot was about to assist, but Merlin beat him to it.

Merlin put a hand gently on Blair's back and with his other hand he took Blair's hand. Lancelot watched as Merlin gently helped Blair into a sitting position that closely resembled the one Allard was in.

If Blair noticed Merlin, she didn't show it. Instead, her beautiful blue gaze was fixed on Lancelot.

Lancelot smiled and came closer to Blair, taking her free hand in his. Blair didn't take her eyes off him, but didn't say a word either.

"Merlin, could you get Blair some water?" He asked, his voice almost a whisper.

Merlin nodded and retrieved a cup of water.

Lancelot watched as Merlin tilted it up to Blair's lips, allowing her to drink the cool liquid. Lancelot didn't know how to react to Merlin's care for Blair.

After finishing a few sips of water, Blair finally looked up at Merlin.

She seemed confused, but the same recognition that Allard had was in her eyes as well.

"M– Merlin?" She choked out.

Merlin nodded.

"Blair, you're hurt. Do you know a healing spell I could use for you?" Merlin asked calmly.

Blair seemed to light up at the sound of magic.

"I think that the best spell is... Licsar ge staðol nu. It's difficult... but you are Emrys." Blair said, her sounding stronger that it had only seconds before.

Merlin bowed his head and Lancelot saw a touch of pink on the young man's cheeks.

Lancelot wondered why Blair had just called Merlin by a different name. Maybe the name Emrys meant something in the magical language or maybe Blair was just a little dillusional from the pain.

Lancelot watched Merlin cast the spell. It took a few tries and a hint or two from Blair on how to cast the healing spell, but it worked eventually.

All of Blair's cuts and bruises healed. And, curiously enough, so did Allard's.

Lancelot was impressed.

The five of them had all stayed in Blair's house that night. It was a tight squeeze, but they made it work. Lancelot had taken to Blair's bed. Gwaine to Lancelot's. And Merlin volunteered himself to sleep on the floor between Allard and Blair, who were already asleep on the floor, letting their bodies heal the rest of the way.

Once again, nightmares wracked Lancelot's sleeping hours.

Lancelot had gotten out of bed to the sound of a rhythmic thumping. He found Blair convulsing on the floor, a seizure. He did everything he could to save her. Yet nothing, not even the potion that had worked on Allard, could save her.

He knelt on the ground, cradling Blair's limp form in his arms. He'd lost her. Right after he thought he'd saved her. She was gone.

Lancelot jolted awake. A cold sweat ran down his neck and dampened the collar of his shirt. His breath was ragged and it was difficult to think.

Lancelot stood up and removed his shirt. The nighttime air reached the bare skin on his chest and he immediately felt a bit better. He walked out of the bedroom to the main room, where he saw Blair laying on the floor, peacefully sleeping. The sight of her helped relieve his conscious.

He looked also to Allard's sleeping form, and Merlin's, and lastly, to Gwaine, who was sitting straight up on Lancelot's bed.

Lancelot nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of Gwaine's eyes staring at him from the shadows of the room.

"Gwaine!" He whisper-yelled. "What are you doing up?"

Instead of answering, Gwaine abruptly stood and waved his hand for Lancelot to follow him as he glided silently towards the door. Lancelot wasn't as quiet as Gwaine was, and much less graceful too, but he made it to the door without waking anyone.

Outside, Lancelot found Gwaine leaning against a nearby tree. He wasn't exactly sure why Gwaine had brought him out here, but he figured he'd soon find out.

"Couldn't sleep?" Gwaine asked him.

"No, bad dreams. You?" Lancelot replied, hoping that Gwaine wouldn't want him to talk about the dream. Lucky for him, Gwaine wasn't the feelings type and most likely wouldn't comment on it.

Gwaine sighed before answering. "Couldn't go to sleep. Too worried about Allard and now that Blair's here..."

Lancelot nodded his understanding.

They stood there in silence for a while, listening to the calls of owls and the faint whisper of the wind in the trees above.

"You love her." Gwaine said abruptly, his sentence sounding more like a question than a statement.

It took Lancelot by surprise, but he knew the answer.

"Yeah, yeah I do."

"Good."

Silence.

"Blair's more likely to live than Allard is." Gwaine said, randomly.

"Uh, I wouldn't say that. Allard seems to be making a great recovery." Lancelot responded, fumbling for the right words to say.

"Lancelot, I... I care about Allard. You let me take him in as my apprentice, my squire. And then the Phoenix attacked and I thought I lost my only apprentice." Gwaine paused, leaving Lancelot very confused.

"What I'm trying to say here, Lancelot, is that you'll get Blair back, and once you do, hold onto her tight and never let her go... I couldn't bare to let you feel the same pain I'm feeling right now, knowing that Allard isn't gonna live through this."

Lancelot didn't know how to respond.

He faced Gwaine, putting his hand on the other Knight's shoulder.

"Allard will make it through this. He'll continue to be your apprentice." He said, attempting to comfort his friend.

Gwaine shook his head. Lancelot knew he had to speak again.

"Gwaine... you're right. Blair will make it through this. And once she does she'll do everything in her power to save Allard. Trust me, she brought me back from the brink of death, at least Allard is conscious. I wasn't, yet here I am talking to you."

Gwaine didn't seem convinced, but at least he looked a bit less... lost.

"Come on, man. Let's go back inside, and get some sleep before morning."

Gwaine didn't move as Lancelot started walking back to the house.

When Lancelot realized that Gwaine hadn't moved an inch he turned back and jogged to the man.

"What now?" He asked, exasperated.

"Nothing. I just... have a bad feeling. Like something's gonna go wrong." Gwaine shook his head. "It's probably nothing."

Lancelot let out a small laugh. "I am in the presence of a knight of Camelot, a squire to that knight, and King Arthur's servant. Something always goes wrong when you're in this type of company. Why do you think Blair and I live alone out in the woods like maniacs?"

Gwaine laughed a bit, but it was strained. "I could've sworn that you lived out here because you like the bears"

They both laughed for a moment. Lancelot patted his friend roughly on the back.

"Come on, let's go get some sleep."

Gwaine nodded and walked beside him towards the door.

Right before entering Gwaine spoke.

"I'm glad you love her."

Lancelot smirked but didn't reply as he opened the door to Blair's house and they both settled into their beds and promptly fell asleep.

The next few days passed. Blair healed wonderfully and began using complex herb treatments to heal Allard. Merlin assisted her and the two were growing closer by the minute, developing a friendship that could possibly last a lifetime.

Lancelot still had yet to tell Blair of his love for her, but only because he couldn't get any alone time with Blair.

Gwaine took care of Allard for great lengths of time, helping with the recovery process as much as he could.

On the third day, Merlin returned to Camelot, saying that Arthur would kill him for being gone this long.

Gwaine stayed behind with Allard, after all, Blair would need someone to help her with the herbs and all.

Lancelot did all the work and chores around the house. Hunting, cleaning, getting water from the well. He would normally complain but he was rather liking the work. He wasn't a healer, and Lancelot knew that, but doing the chores made him feel useful.

He still couldn't stop thinking about what Gwaine had said, about never letting Blair go. Gwaine had seemed, maybe heartbroken when he'd mentioned their love. But of course, Lancelot couldn't blame him, Gwaine had loved Blair first.

Still, something didn't feel right to Lancelot. Gwaine's warning kept echoing in his head. Something was bound to go wrong, Gwaine had said. Lancelot was beginning to worry that maybe something was about to go wrong.

And Gwaine's warning turned out to be correct as the next morning, Blair, Lancelot, Gwaine, and Allard awoke to a forest fire raging around them.

 **Okay so this story is coming to an end soon, maybe around the 12th or 13th chapter but I'm not sure. Still though, this story is coming to an end.**


	12. Chapter 11

**Hello, dear readers. This is the last chapter in this story. sorry you had to wait so long for it, but it's here. I know there's no excuse for the lateness of this chapter, but i"m going to try to explain anyways. Basically, I've been writing other things. *Gasp* what other things? Well, nothing that's as important as this. If you want to read the only other thing I've finished (other than this story once you finish reading through this AN) look up Brown on AO3 (by the same author name and everything.) It's a reader-insert to the X-Menverse where the reader has awesome powers and falls in love with Quicksilver. Also, before I go, I'd like to thank the readers who've left reviews on this story.**

 **Shoutout to:**

 **-Jenni**

 **-Guest**

 **-KatriaFaeyero**

 **And lastly, f1gymnast, who left many lovely comments.**

 **It's all of you guys that gave me the motivation to finish this story. You asked, so I delivered. I hope you love it.**

Blair awoke to a searing heat all around her and the smell of smoke.

 _Fire._

Blair was up and on her feet in seconds, despite the mild pain that shot through her body.

Looking around, she saw Gwaine on Lancelot's bed, and Allard on the floor near where she'd been laying.

She didn't see Lancelot, but she figured that he was currently sleeping in her bed.

The fire was everywhere. Blair had to get out of the house– out of the forest really. She had to get everyone out. Allard wasn't in the best condition for moving and Blair was still weak from the time she'd spent being tortured.

 _"Hey, little princess," The man in front of her snickered while turning a kinfe over in his hands. "You and me are going to have so much fun tonight."_

 _Blair shivered at the thought of what the man would do to her._

 _The knife pressed against her throat and Blair stiffened. The metal on the blade was ice cold and the smile on the man's face was just as cold._

 _Two more men came and all three entered her cell._

 _The man she'd been talking to had his knife. The man who was currently standing off the Blair's left was huge and muscular. And the man to Blair's right was small but he held a red hot sword in his hands. This was not going to be fun._

 _Blair breathed in and out, attempting to calm her nerves._

 _"Have you ever heard of dragons?" The knife man asked._

 _What kind of stupid question was that? Everyone knows dragons._

 _Blair nodded._

 _"Good. Have you ever heard of the Dark Dragon? They call him Aindyg."_

 _Blair shook her head to this new information. As far as she knew, all the dragons had died in the Great Purge._

 _"Hmm, well in that case you are no use to us." The man said._

 _Good, that meant they'd let her go. Right?_

 _"Boys, have fun with her."_

 _Blair screamed as the sword touched her skin and heat seared her arm._

Blair shook herself out of the memory. No time for dwelling on the past. She needed to move.

Quickly, she ran back to her bedroom and found Lancelot where she thought he'd be: sleeping peacefully on her bed.

She smiled at the sight of him. Blair remembered that she still hadn't gotten a chance to properly thank him for saving her from that hell hole. She'd have to do that.

"Lancelot!" Blair shouted. Lancelot bolted upright and immediately noticed the smell of smoke and how hot it was.

"It's a forest fire." He said.

 _Well duh_ , Blair thought. "Come on, the fire's going to burn down the house soon. We have to get out of here."

Lancelot nodded and got out of the bed to go wake Gwaine and Allard.

Five minutes later they were all rushing through the burning forest towards the safety of the river.

Blair was fully healed so running through the flaming forest was easy but she worried for Allard. The young man was stumbling along, only staying upright from the help of Gwaine who was yelling words of encouragement over the roar of the fire.

Lancelot was next to her, gripping her hand tightly and protectively as they ran towards the river.

 _His hand is really warm... or maybe that's the fire._

The group of four eventually reached the water's' edge and Allard collapsed to the ground. Blair knelt down next to him. He was bleeding heavily once again.

Blair ran her hands through her hair in strife.

"Okay... Allard, I don't have my herbs and my magic is weak right now. I can't stop the bleeding. However, I have a solution, but you're not going to like it."

Lancelot looked on in interest.

"Just... fix me long enough for us to get out of this forest."

Blair stood and ran back into the fiery landscape. Lancelot noticed her steal Gwaine's sword from his sheath.

"BLAIR!" Lancelot couldn't stop himself from yelling out. _Where was she going. She's going to get herself killed._

Minutes passed by before Blair ran back out of the fiery mess that was the forest. Gwaine's sword was in her hands, red hot. Realization struck Lancelot like a battering ram.

Blair knelt back down at Allard's side. "Don't hate me."

"Why would I hate you?" Allard slurred.

"Allard, quick question: who do you love the most?" Blair asked rapidly.

"Wha-" Allard began to ask, sitting up. Blair pressed the red hot metal of the sword to Allard's wound. A scream pierced the smoky air. Tears streamed down Allard's face and he shook violently.

Gwaine wrapped Allard in his arms and picked him up swiftly. "We need to cross the river."

Blair and Lancelot nodded. Luckily, they had run to a slow section of the river.

Blair went first, followed by Gwaine with Allard, succeeded by Lancelot.

Blair made it across safely. Gwaine had some balance issues, but made it to the other side of the river without falling. Lancelot was halfway there when a fiery bough from a huge oak tree fell into the water, up river from him. It moved swiftly, for such a large piece of wood. It sizzled fiercely as the fire on it was extinguished by the cold, rushing water. The bough slammed into Lancelot's torso.

"Lancelot!" Blair cried out. Lancelot struggled to find his footing as the current dragged him away from Blair. Blair, the girl he loved. The bough that has originally struck him had scraped his skin and burned it on top of that. He wanted to tell himself that Blair would save him, but she had made it clear that her magic was weak.

"Blai-!" His cry was cut short by the rush of ice cold water that flooded into his mouth. He began to choke, his limbs flailed in the water, and all he could think about was how he'd never told Blair how he felt.

Something strong grabbed him by the torso. He felt himself be lifted into the air. He heard the rush of wind as whatever had grabbed him flapped its mighty wings. He spit out the river water he was choking on with a great deal of coughing. Looking up at what had grabbed him, Lancelot thought he might pass out.

Carrying him was a massive black and dark blue dragon. It had pink scars on its body and electric blue eyes.

 _Screw manliness_ , Lancelot's conscious told him as he screamed his lungs out.

 _If I survive this. I'm telling Blair how I feel. No doubt about it._ He vowed to himself, not believing that he was going to survive.

But slowly, he found himself closer and closer to the ground. _This is how I die. Not a warrior's death, or sacrifice. Nope. Lancelot got carried off by a dragon that saved him from drowning in exchange for a delicious dinner made of Lancelot meat. Yum._

Just as Lancelot was accepting his death, he was set down on a cushioned forest floor. He opened his eyes slowly. He was on the other side of the river. Blair was leaning over him. The dragon was... just sitting off to the side. _Wait what?_

Blair leaned over him and cupped his face in her hands. "Are you okay?" She asked.

 _Well_ , Lancelot thought. "I think so."

"I thought you were going to die." Blair sighed.

"Me too." Lancelot replied. She was so close. Blair's beautiful face was right above his. He could kiss her right now if he wanted to. He was about to as well. So close. But a noise interrupted his thoughts as the dragon spoke.

"You're welcome?" It roared.

Blair looked up. "Oh! Right! Yes, thank you so much... dragon."

"Aindyg." It said. Blair gasped, as if she recognised the name.

"Bless you." Gwaine stated.

"That wasn't a sneeze, Knight. That's my name: I'm Aindyg, the Dark One." Aindyg roared. Blair's face was pale, though she seemed to be composing herself slowly. He didn't know what had her so shocked, but he figured it was the massive dragon in front of them.

"Well, thanks for saving my life." Lancelot spoke up. He'd seen a dragon before, but Aindyg was so different from that one. This dragon actually seemed willing to help humans, which Killgarah was not, if memory served him right.

The dragon laughed. "A pleasure. Your destiny does not end here, Lancelot. You have a long life in front of you, assuming you don't drown first."

Lancelot looked to Blair with confusion. She shrugged.

"Could you... give us a ride to Camelot?" Gwaine asked.

Lancelot turned to him, surprised. "Camelot?" Him and the dragon said in unison.

"Yes. I figure, with the fire burning down the entire forest, it's not going to do Allard any good to be out here. Blair's got him good enough to not die, so why not?"

Aindyg sighed. "Very well. Perhaps I will see you again, Sorceress. If not, then I bid you and Lancelot farewell."

With that, Aindyg took Gwaine in one mighty claw and Allard in another and flew off into the distance.

Lancelot turned to Blair. She looked at him, her mismatched blue eyes sparkling. "That was a dragon." She whispered.

"Yeah. I almost died, and the forest is still on fire. It's been a great day." Lancelot said bluntly.

"Absolutely marvelous." Blair replied, turning to look at the raging fire.

Lancelot turned to look as well. "Blair?"

"Hm?"

He took a deep breath. He was going to do this. He was going to do this. He could do this.

"When you're about to die... or when you're being carried by a dragon, same thing, it's easy to realize what matters in life. You see the reason you don't want to go..." He trailed off.

 **Blair's POV**

"Are you going to finish that thought?" She asked, turning towards him.

"Um, yeah. I remembered waking up in your house, on the floor. All alone, until you came through the door with that basket of soaking wet clothes. I still feel guilty about rummaging through your stuff, by the way."

"It's fine." Blair snapped. "Does this have a point or are you just reminiscing?" It sounded like he was about to tell her he loved her, but that couldn't be possible, because Lancelot most certainly didn't love her.

"It does... just let me get there." Lancelot hesitated.

Blair sighed. There was something about him. His usually perfect hair was plastered against his forehead and neck. His clothes clung tightly to his muscular figure. His brown eyes were so warm and his hands twitched nervously.

She couldn't do this anymore.

"Blair, I'm going to just to jump to the end he-."

Blair grabbed him by his soaking wet shirt and pulled him into her. Their lips collided and, to Blair's surprise, Lancelot didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into it and wrapped his arms around her back.

She'd imagined their first kiss in many different scenarios, but soaking wet, standing in smoke polluted air from the forest fire that burned on the other side of the river was not one of them. But yet, it was somehow perfect.

Blair was the first one to pull away, needing air. Lancelot looked utterly shocked.

"You just kept rambling, and I..." She trailed off, blushing.

"You kissed me." He whispered.

"You can ignore that ever happened, if you want." She spoke rapidly, embarrassed beyond belief.

"I was planning on doing that first." He said.

"What?"

"You stole my moment. I was going to tell you I loved you and kiss you." Lancelot complained. "Not that it wasn't great..."

"You... you love me?" She whispered in disbelief.

"More than anything in the world." He returned.

A smile spread across her features. He loved her. He loved her. She couldn't stop herself from throwing herself into Lancelot's arms and kissing him deeply.

It was even better than the first kiss. His lips were so soft and his hands were so firm. The way he kissed her was so different from the way Gwaine kissed her. This was so passionate, so loving, so desperate. It made her crazy. Blair realized she could get used to this.

 **Six Months Later**

"Done." Lancelot said, brushing the dust off his hands. He and Blair and just finished rebuilding Blair's house. Though, it was their house, he figured. It was beautiful too. They made the bedroom bigger, since the two of them would be staying in it. They also built a second bedroom for when guests came to visit. The kitchen, dining room, and living room were all in the same room at the front of the house. There were some other added features to the house, but they mostly kept it simple.

Lancelot and Blair were happy, too. Not a day went by that they didn't kiss, hug, tell each other they loved the other, or sometimes all three.

As it turns out, Lancelot and Blair weren't the only couple in Camelot. He'd heard that Arthur and Guinevere were to be getting married. He caught a whiff of a rumor that Allard had confessed his love for a certain Knight of Camelot, only to be shot down. Evidently, Gwaine only did gals. Not to worry, though, because Allard had quickly found another man in the markets of Camelot that caught his interest. Blair barely commented on the situation saying, "Whatever floats their boats." This was followed up with her kissing Lancelot. Whatever floats their boats indeed.

Right now, however, him and Blair looked at the freshly furnished house. It was perfect. Just like their relationship, he had a feeling it would last a while.

The End.

 **I hope you liked it. In case you were wondering why this chapter was filled with lots of short dialog and not many descriptors, I was trying to show that they were all in shock, hence Gwaine just blurting out random ideas and Lancelot/Blair not being able to form coherent thoughts other than:** ** _we didn't die._** **I tried, but it mostly came off as I wrote this at eleven at night on a whim. That's actually not that far from the truth, but I'd like to think that this was just my excellent writing skills. HAHA yeah right. Anyways, I'm going to shut up now. If you write a review on this story, trust me, I'll read it. It might take me until 2022 to actually read it, but I will eventually. Think of it as saving the happiness that comes from getting a review for later. Like a ship in a bottle.**

 **PS, I'm going to write other things on this account eventually. Eventually being the keyword there. But, hopefully, I'll pump out some awesome crossovers that I'm thinking about writing.**

 **I love you all, especially the readers that review on my stories and give me the happiness and inspiration to keep writing. Have a great life my dudes.**

 **-JustThatOneGirl1815**


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